लू / ज़करिया मोहम्मद / अनिल जनविजय
अँग्रेज़ी से अनुवाद : अनिल जनविजय
लीजिए, अब यही कविता अँग्रेज़ी अनुवाद में पढ़िए
Zakaria Mohammed
Sun Stroke
We were born of a sun stroke
of the stroke of scythe against wind
and of horn against stone
We threw our placenta to the dogs
and our soul into a pool of gloom
Like poor women we embroidered
our lips on the fabric of silence
Impure we went to the dawn prayer
to the rose
and memories of childhood
Sand is our grain
and sand is the horse's fodder
We climbed the sand gasping for breath
and worn out we came down
No evidence of our names
except an alphabet not cited in the dictionary
no evidence of our forbears
except the silence of dogs at the door
We got hitched to our shoelaces
and to the hair of eyelashes
and to the tails of comets
We crouched like dogs before the door
crouched cheerless before the rose
And the rose is the necked blood sacrifice of midday
Our flour was strewn everywhere
and despair is an iron ring on our finger
Grant us respite so we may recognize our shadows
and our hooves may grow
A giant bell hangs over our head
a persistent bell makes us lose the way
We pray to silence the great chime on the lips of our dead
Take us by the hand
and the waist
hold us below our breasts
we are kin of smoke and fire
This is our finger
wet to explore the wind
wounded by our endless questions
We fooled around with our names
and the buttonholes of our shirt
and drove prayers like filthy swans in front of us
We hitched the donkeys to children's ankles
and hitched autumn to summer
to calm down our shivers
Call us from behind our rooms
call us with a scandalous voice that would shame us bare
call us with a voice that would rip apart our wood and bamboo
Lead our prayers so we may pray beyond the bound of duty
and our souls stand erect within our bodies
The bitter colocynth seeds are our lunch
our dinner is as dry as stone
and silence flows like menstrual blood between our legs
We pray to crush our kidney stones
and pray to break the bread of our supper
No immunity for the pebble
or the rose
all lie within the range of thunder
We were born of the inversion of the lip
and the eyelash
we were born of the stroke of horn against stone.
