Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Softly serenades a sonata,
The piano where thy fingers etched
The notes…

Self-same sanctity… in you reside, of
The river that runs deep between
The lofty hills of Chiltan…
Self-same innocence…in you dwell, of
The hazy mist and frost of the gorges of Quetta…

A Symbol…
That’s You.
Of thine own people, whose voices
Rise , and rise
Beyond the barracks of silence
Paved by guns and bombs…

It’s in You,
In your eyes…the eternal fire
Of the parched hearts of mothers…
Of those tears that have dried up way back…

It’s in You,
Dreams withered,
Of thy friend, shot down
Somewhere in the lanes of memory…

Amidst the words in continual fight
We have marked as our own…
Neither the nations,
Nor the wielders of power,
Neither the religions,
Nor the God 
The endless, azure sky as our haven
An ultimate place of belonging… and 
As the end of all.

I fare thee well, to come back…
Let grace brim
Within you,
From the glorious rays of the sun.
Let the aura of life emanate
In you,
From the melodious ditties of life…

Come back,
A while, from the days that spread before you

Once again,
For dancing along the rhythms of Hazaragi….
For dissenting along the lines of my thought… 

പരിഭാഷ: കേരളത്തിലെ ഏതോ യൂണിവേര്സിറ്റിയിൽ ഇംഗ്ലീഷ് പഠിപ്പിച്ചു ഉപജീവനം നടത്തുന്ന ഒരു സുഹൃത്ത്... നാരായണി എന്ന് ഉപനാമം

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