THE DARKNESS
B.
M. PARSWALE
I
All fair principles
are going to be tied to slaughterer’s Peg
Snares of ideals are
breathing their last possessing of gold coin of death
Like unsheltered poor cattles from famine
And the darkness is
fleeing with hurricane speed
The courts, parliament
houses are startling inside
With moving hands on
the millions of years’ evolution
The utmost peaks of Pratibha are not seeming
I am extinguishing
(myself) from all sides with the darkness
My frontal bridge
tissues are crashing down having picked up.
If anybody has found
the Sun just he may come here.
Peoples are going to
be throwned from here to there Like
carrying of the wood
Their chipping is
going on, cutting is going on However they wish
By persons terrible than
the vesuvius
The lively treasures
of Men only are rooking of (And)
The timid Academics,
directors of the Newest Orders
Are accepting the
restraints only for luxrious gifts
And
the darkness? The darkness is moving on Forward On the
(wings) of Future
(which
is) Tender, very tender
If anybody has found
the Sun just He may come here.
The
The language of New creation
There are many a great
Fellows
Who are sewing a
strong Form of their own
Due to fright of
hitting a stroke to oneself
Fire a bullet at their own caravan
I have seen from the
utmost height
Many Big ones
accepting the award-titles
And friends! horses are only obstructed here
And the darkness is
assaulting
At the nucleus of
Humanity with fast speed
I am deceived
constantly myself,
On the Screen, on the
poster
If anybody has found
the Sun just
He may come here.
(Translated
from Marathi by V. P. THONTE)