Ravikumar’s Poems

1

Ever heard the rain weep, her cries
Slashing, slicing your heart?
Forsaken by all, she goes to everyone,
Begging, beseeching through her tears—
A scorned woman seeking justice.
Haven’t you heard her relentless pounding
Against earth, cursing the directions?

You walk past children,
Their arms-outstretched, begging.
Your heart turns to stone. . .
Yet, you should try and see
Sometimes, even the eyes can hear.

2

Like entering a cashew grove
in its flowering season,
your memory makes me
struggle for breath

Like the scent of a screw-pine flower
makes it impossible to think of anything else
you are imprinted upon every moment

Like a young boy,
who has lost a goat
on his way home herding,
I panic

On the road,
as the wind seizes
the balloon from her hands,
a small girl cries

A rat descends
on a sari-made cradle tied
to the roof of the hut,
the child laughs

3

That age—where I carved
our names on eucalyptus trees
with flaked-off barks—lies shed
among fallen leaves, and,
below that, a memory,
crawls like a snake.

When young, the plumpness of
cheeks intact, you would breeze in,
and soon fly away, parrot-like
Afraid even of the ants climbing your legs
The kisses I leave on your hands,
You would carry off in a handkerchief

Angry over your leaving,
And without any thought
that it’s an innocent creature,
I would kill chameleons.

Eucalyptus trees have become a forest
Date palms have become a bush
In the garden, thorns have blossomed

4

The bird does not know
The news of its feather
Being some child’s treasure

5

Every time we met
I lost some of my words

One day

Like a matchstick, you burnt
A word in me
My heart was set ablaze
Language started boiling
And some of the words vapourized

And I saw some of that steam
Enter you, through your parted lips

Another day

You flung into me a word-bait
Naively, my mind swallowed it
You pulled the hook
You caught the words
And put them into your heart

And on another day

Like the crow that drank its fill
By throwing stones in a pot of water
You slipped some words into me
From my dreams that surfaced
You sucked away some words

I worried
About the dwindling words
But you said
‘The poem that uses
The least words
Is the best.’

If this continues
I will become mute, I said.
Embracing me, you whispered:

‘Why words, for love?’

6

Why are trees silent
After it has ceased raining?
Is it the weight of wetness
The emptiness of being birdless
To stand under a rain-drenched tree at night
Feels as heavy as living in a home
Without you

(Translation: Meena Kandasamy)