Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
ONE: SHE WHO PICKS WIND BERRIES
Over hilltops where the wind roars and rumbles, inside ashen thickets, snarled and spread out
on endless black rock waves,
she sits on her haunches and picks every black berry to feed her children during winter.
How blue-black those fingers!
What wondrous golden curls
what a lasting, luminous moon that face!
Time spills over. From afar, a cloud drifts closer.
Like strands of breeze squirming through specks of leaves, she seems blended into the thicket.
She can’t be seen. No movement. No sound either.
TWO: THE ONE WHO CUT HER HAIR
She was standing in the courtyard of her house. She had just cut her long hair that had grown and flourished over four decades. Anguished, she looked at us.
It’s good to have cut my hair. There’s no more fussing over washing and drying, dying, combing or styling. It’s good. It’s good.
Yes, it’s good, we said.
Now, I won’t have to die as the woman with the long hair. It’s good.
Yes, it’s good, we said.
The strands of grey hair falling up to the buttocks must have swayed. The sun that shone during winter months must have bounced along.
The pup stands aside and stares. The husband shears the sheep. The child sings a song.
We had gone to see her from the southern tip of the continent
that had let loose its hair.
NOTE
Translated from the original, ‘Rendu pennungal’, these poems are about two women Thampi came across in Wales.
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