HE
K. Siva Reddy
Breathlessness, death defying struggle,
it is a situation, tormenting the onlookers–
Bending his head as though saluting,
kneeling down he rests his head
on the fists of two hands
yearning, squirming for fresh air.
The night swirled nightlong
turning upside down like boiling rice.
The sky
spread lifeless like cloth on a bier,
dew around him
like the flailing sail in agitation
flutters endlessly.
The moon is shaped like a coffin;
‘Instead of enduring hellish torture
isn’t it better if he departs suddenly’–
that is what one may feel.
A middle aged lady
laying a hand on the shoulder
comforts, caressing the locks.
Feebly looking at the sky
coughing with strain
he rests his head in his hands.
‘What does he dream of?
perhaps converses with dame Death’.
—that’s what one may surmise.
After the day stretches considerably
as the infant Sun prostrates before him,
one can notice him
cuddling with the kid,
well entrenched in the middle of the cot.
(Translated from Telugu by
T. S. Chandra Mouli & Sarojini)