Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
Translated by K. Satchidanandan
What is this in your fist my child?
asks the mother with eager eyes.
With a mischievous smile spreading in her eyes,
on her lips and on the whole body, she replies,
“Look here, mother!
A tiny butterfly, blue and white, inside my fist!”
The girl opened her fist; there was no butterfly there.
“It was there just now!”, the girl said, ‘brought from the garden”
A sigh rose from the mother’s heart, of the meaninglessness of it all,
of the unendurable agony of the story of her failure reiterated once again.
“ My child, I too had once seen that butterfly , the whole scared youth ,
tender adolescence passed in that dream.
I did not have the courage to stretch my hands to make it my own
My princess, learn to tighten your hold
Lest the blue and white butterfly flies away again–
Like a dream of holding it forever
One day that vanished from my eyes.
Learn to hold it; you have to learn to secure it, a right to have a butterfly”
The girl watches her strong mother, and wonders.
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