Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
The Cloud, lines 66-95
priya says
மறைபொருள்
maraiporul:shot-silk sheen
of veiled words—
the mysteries
mystics muddle us in—
signalling there’s more to seek and
the path is solitary
below the song’s shimmer
see its second face
pale as rain
storm
clouds cover
Perunthurai’s pinnacle
darkness drapes earth
lightning lunges
snakes
slither out from soil—
are swept away
thunder grows roars
drumming stone mud water’s seep
glistening crimson-gold
kanthal flowers unfurl
their rain filled cups
as if asking for more
foaming white over drenched emerald
waterfalls thickly plait the hills
lakes swell and swollen
submerge uneven ground
scenting far rain
large-eyed antelopes
startle
race randomly
mouths open to slake their thirst in a mirage
long legs balling
beneath them they die drought stricken
undisturbed the holy flows
on in rhythms rapturous
forming swirls that surge that
fell massive trees so their roots claw
air as they are carried away
the torrent
cleaves through clefts
to collect in a large basin buoyant
with blossoming lotuses
perfuming the air
restrained
its banks are circled by women
who dry their soft hair
with scented smoke
bees hover beetles hum
farmers sow seeds
in freshly ploughed fields
sure of reaping swaying grain
again it grows to gather and ascend
praises praises supreme cloud
hard to reach in any universe
Manikkavacagar’s soaked words seep
primal ocean of bliss peeks
over the sacred peak
sweeps through sky
as a second canopy that pours
clarity cracks open
consciousness
slicing sensual bonds
snarled in flesh
the washed crimson flower glows within
grace pounds down
blessed we still beseech
more blessings
our hungry hands held up
the auspicious deluge drowns
the six deluded sects—
who perish with
longings unquenched
grace crashes open
our confined selves
sluggish with karma
massive as trees uprooted
cleansing completed compassion calms itself
incense soars from homes
saturated in sacredness
bhaktas plough the field of worship
planting and planting seeds of love
never spent it begins
in joy
another cycle
Extract from Tiruvanndappahudi / Creation Songs. The Cloud employs an often-used metaphor of Southern bhakti poetry: God as the storm cloud who rains grace on and cleanses his devotees while leveling disbelievers. By harvesting the processes of evaporation, condensation and rain this lushly evocative poem adds to its contemporary significance.
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