Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
At night my mother becomes a lamp
In our house
Where she illuminates the darkness
But cannot overcome
The loneliness
Which grows like fungus.
In this space, I’m blind.
I cannot see her longing
Or her grief —
As if my eyes
Are covered with earth.
But I can hear
And feel
The fragrant five note raag
Which a shepherd sings afar
While his flock sleeps
The sleep of the Seven Sleepers.
The night seems to emerge
From the raag;
The city is engrossed by it.
The rows of fragile houses,
The half-open windows
Which exhale the smell
Of old wood,
The stray dogs
That look for mates
In the narrow streets,
The night-scented jasmine plants
Growing beside the graves,
All are mystified by Chandrakauns,
The raag of the lunar deity,
On this moonless night
While my mother, the lamp,
Continues to cast light.
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