Poetry at Sangam

SangamHouse

 










IN HER LAND, IT RAINS EVERY TENTH DAY by Uma Gowrishankar

for Andal
 
வாங்கக் குடம் நிறைக்கும் வள்ளல் பெரும் பசுக்கள்
நீங்காத செல்வம் நிறைந்தேலோர் எம்பாவாய்.

The hill fashions clouds,
illupai breathes deep to enable this.
Shrouded in a fog the pimpled bark of wild lime
loops liana climbers under hoary limbs.

The red earth swirls in a dust storm,
precipitation veins the hill.
The mercurial rupture on boulders, the burst
of life tosses the crown of kadamba.

The heartwood browned with age holds
the secret of her progeny. Stewing the sap
in the folds of skin, she births a calf 
who sleeps in the ooze of milk.

UMA GOWRISHANKAR