Kannada original: ಕತ್ತಲು-ಮೌನದ ಮುನಿಸ ಸದ್ದು kattalu-mounada munisa saddu
Poet: MOULYA SWAMY ಮೌಲ್ಯ ಸ್ವಾಮಿ
Translated into English by S. Jayasrinivasa Rao
THE ANGERED SOUND OF DARK-SILENCE
I, the timorous,
had hidden
in the box of mustard seeds
my soul and my sole witness.
Shoved into the hotness of its oil,
they’ve been murdered.
My witness has disappeared.
On my front-yard,
I had blended and woven
the lines of the rangoli
with the vigour of hope.
Somebody’s foot-mark is
giving a stupid look.
I had saved a
few tomorrows in the
savings-box behind
the laughing portrait.
When I shake it
now I hear the sound of
darkness, and angered silence.
I had strewn some
raw hopes
under his pillow.
The night passed
and dawn broke.
Only ashes were left.
I had hidden so many sobs
of my heart’s scattered notes
inside the crisp folded silks
in the wooden chest.
I heard that somebody had
chopped off the river’s fingers.
I smeared some smiles
on the mirror’s cheek
and whispered all sorts of things
into the cloudy ears of
the steam-covered glass.
My secrets
as secrets still
have flown away wherever.
Here, cruelty does not
arrive with long strides
and a puffed chest
to embrace you
in broad daylight,
in open spaces.
Inside the
mustard seed too,
they come running
to slice your cheek,
a trick to ruin
your rumination.
When things are such,
on balance, nothing is gained.
And, as for us girls,
we don’t hurt that easily by slaps of illusion.
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