Poem by Sudhakar Gaidhani


THE SONS O’ SEA, TELL

These, here,
hurl themselves
in the gushing water
of the river, in spate:
to pull out the logs, floating:
and those, there,
together flock, on the banks
to auction them, as fuel, fast.

And on the distressed banks,
of the river, pregnant,
crowd the fuel greedy souls
welcoming the floods
with a wel-come song.

The sons o’ sea, tell,
as groomed, does each behave.
And, so, friends,
they alone, who the gutters, cross
and join the river, main,
turn, later, in ocean fathomless
and these shaping those
the gutters in tanks
quarrel on their bunds
and perchance, in them,fall.

Drink water the flows
and thirst should sweep
all that, its flow, mars.

But while so growing
humble the river must be
and when the sea is in fury, full
hard the banks must be .
-and this also the matured tell
cross some are with mirrors
for, truth alone,they tell.

True, the grass-blades do
survive the hoods furious,
but can they any time
shelter anyone in their shade?

And thus
though the great come and go
the clamour for bread
ceases not
and while i gnaw
the universe.

From Marathi into English by Anand Jog