Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
On the day,
that good omens
turned into creatures,
an inquest for new land
The folks assembled on the hills
to greet the day
Traditionally the blood of a hen
then, they decide
a time period for hunting
When they start their journey
they carry dried rotis
raw pickle of garlic and onion
with the small, dangerous weapons
They enter the forest
like poison of a snake
following the veins of forest
Inquest of hunger atoms in dark
The blind and innocent forest
feels that it is in danger
and liberates the souls of great animals
from its tuft of faded braid
Days swell and die in the barks of the tree
weeks try to stitch their wounds
with the deaths of folks
The war continues in silence
among folks, creatures and souls
deaths move slowly as snails
Into the heart of the abyss
The forest feels dizzy
a month comes to an end
and tries to cross the border of hills
Folks, the great hunters
who had died and are going to die
will walk back to their land
with whatever they have
few with peacock, rabbit
monitor lizard, beehive…
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