THE SPRING OF '82

THE SPRING OF '82

¼c;klh dk clUr English translation by GPBahuguna½

In what lightest shade of darkness

and luminous of light

Shall I write my impressions on Spring of 82

Which may be called a poem in few words

Shall I throw wreaths on selected spots

hit by bullets or

write odes on wounded feelings

Shall I describe kidnapped children whose faces were like tender flowers

Or say about lost people who were on pleasure trip somewhere?

I will not ask you to observe silence to remember them

Instead I will add-

Try to remember,which anniversary falls today for

those who had died or were lost

Some of them had gone barely a week before.

The delight of their gossip and odor of their bodies

The sound of their return follow in darkness

There are many apprehensions which startle in the light

they seem to appear in phantoms.

May be they were knowing the Spring shall arrive.

In their lifetime also the birds used to carry forest seed out of jungle

The earth hid them beneath surface when fell ripe

Seed do not get rot when lay buried in their home underground.

See, there are flowers in bloom everywhere!

But mark this also,

After all how much you can see through these flowers

If a long snowfall has arrived your doorsteps

Even then million of seeds every year

cross over many currents through unseen bridges,

Turn into green pastures of their own.

Some breathe their life to grow essential food for others

And reach in cooking houses unseen .

Much is wiped out perhaps due to arrival of Spring

After all, how much you can see through these flowers

Half right now, half later 

in family dreams which were left unseen.

Much thicker blood is flowing today than that of last one decade,

Even the latest fresh air feels dull

Like day on eclipse

A body is lying dead under all trees.

On the bank of silent river of dreams

Where dark forests are left behind

On a desolate sleepy spot

Coming out from the depth of rock

Some lonely plant is waiting death.

Worms are devouring it with glee

Round which a cold Spring night is wrapped like blanket

The flowering of his mixed experience of courage, wisdom and folly

Can be seen even in last moments of life.

But how much you can see with your rosy eyes.

Try to recall the smell of dead flowers before yourself

And think of the flowers born this year,

To which color, creed and species they belong

All before them you remembered the faces of children

The notorious devils also reflected the same color on their faces

Yet the Spring has arrived bringing New Year to its share

on anticipatory bail.

Translation into English by Govind Prasad Bahuguna