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ORIYA POETRY
SATRUGHNA PANDAB
WAR
It's immaterial
as to who loses
and who wins
in the war.Only that
the earth is soaked,
bathed
in blood, time and again.Who fights with whom?
Who is sacrificed?The war
wipes blue and greenery
from the sky and trees,
breaks the wings of the wind,
throttles the swans
of the rains.Who fights with whom?
Who is sacrificed?No one on the banks
of the river of blood,
no kith and kin;
afloat on it
rafters of bones,
and bones.On the edge of the sword
a chunck of flesh
of the earth;
the obssessed warrior
busy in wiping
from it the rust.It's immaterial
as to who loses,
who wins
in the war.
Translation:
Rabindra K Swain
SOUBHAGYABANTA MAHARANA
THE REBEL BUTTERFLY
The moment of possession
Itself is the moment of losing.
Quite simple it is
To imprison the rebel god
In one's closed fist,
To kiss the sword's sharp edge
And be overwhelmed with love.All is wonderful,wonderful.
Perhaps the lonely butterfly
Becomes immured
In the horrors of war--
Bloodied,as it seeks the death-smell
Of the time bomb
Inside the soft petals of flowers.How easy it is
To recognize life
In the dissent
Between possession and loss!
Translation:
Jayanta Mahapatra
SUBHENDU MUND
NIGHT AT SEA-SHORE
Footsteps strike the dark roads of the night.
Fluttering of the nocturnal wings.
Roars of the engines.Helpless feet. Feet: moving
farther and farther. Streets
dragged. Quivering petals
and wind.
The waves come and go, washing
the feet. Sand tickles and slips away
under them. Water from the cups of hands.
The sound of the flying feet, probably.
No. No sound now.
Weary trees. Weary and stunned
the temple of Lord Jagannath, the Konark and
the blue banner of the temple.
Frozen postures of the dancing girls.At the crack of the dawn: the darkness.
The feet now slumber. The sea-wind
blows past the trees at the shore
and the blue banner.
Translation:
The Poet
A Varnamala Visualization