Amma, Do Not Weep
Cheran
Amma, do not weep.
There are no mountains
to shoulder your sorrow
no rivers
to dissolve your tears.
The instant he handed you
the baby from his shoulder,
the gun fired.
On your tali, lying there in the dust,
blood spread.
In the heat of the splintering bomb
all your bright dreams withered.
What splattered from your anklet
were neither pearls
nor rubies:
there is no longer a Pandyan king
to recognize blood guilt.
On sleepless nights
when your little boy stirs restlessly
screaming out, "Appa"
what will you say?
When you pace the night, showing him the moon
and soothing him against your breast,
do not say,
"Appa is with God."
Tell him this sorrow continues
tell him the story of the spreading blood
tell him to wage battle
to end all terrors.
Translated by Lakshmi Holmstrom
Yaman
Cheran
The wind falters
as fear
fills the night.
I gasp
at the stillness
between the stars.
Whose shadow lurks by the door?
I wouldn't know,
nor would they.
It happened
swiftly.
Death
No reason
no justice
values and virtues
freeze where they stand
in the oppressive silence.
In the dark
lost in flight
pigeons
pound and pound again
against the door.
My resolve to endure
slips.
Do the butterflies
disdaining life
shed their colours
in the prime of youth?
As sunflowers
their golden petals
untouched by dust,
lotus flowers
that bloom at the
touch of water;
as stars,
they will be
born again.
Until then
at the edge of the lake,
stare at the waves.
Note: Yaman, in Hindu myth, is the god of death.
Translated by Chelva Kanaganayakam
From 'Lutesong and Lament: Tamil Writing from Sri Lanka'
Edited by Chelva Kanaganayakam. Published in 2001 by TSAR publications,
P.O. Box 6996, Station A, Toronto, Ontario M5W 1X7, Canada.
_______________________________________________________________
Cheran is a Research Associate at Center for Refugee Studies in
Toronto, Canada.
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