ORIYA POETRY

HARAPRASAD  DAS

JESUS CHRIST

You are so faraway,
and,yet,
I hear the footfalls of your breath
on the wind's corridor.

Remain faraway
so that my soul
that bought whole history with
a few drops of blood
may smile a little longer
on the crucifix.

In the end,of course,
I shall raise my body
on the podium of your unbelief.

And you,Jesus,
will be its keeper
when a new shroud is spread
on the indestructible coffin
of History.


Translation:
Ramakanta Rath


MASK : MY FACE


What shall I do now?
Shall water the day and
watch it melting away or
sleep inside the
fruit of our shame its
seeds hardening with fear?

The first night followed by
a million other nights I
grow old the killer's amorphous
quest sans quest locked
in the barrel,motionless,waiting
for the hours to dry and
the roots to unlock
the door on the mask
into my plain face my
secret harvest


Translation:
The poet


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