Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
Dust gambols in the sun
through strained blinds;
seasons pass without taste
on an old tongue gone bushy
with too many medicines.
You want to see its pupils dilate
with something it hasn’t known;
but there is no grief after which
the sun doesn’t shine, nor joy
which belies the moon’s prophesy.
And the garden will be full
of what keeps repeating itself
between greens.
You must know it from within
as the dead must be known,
from echoing regimes of
dreams once neatly arranged,
walls receding into the years
with their defeated trophies;
and amidst the countless names
of its objects and desires,
that time when an emptiness
was tampered with for a while.
(The poet would like to acknowledge with thanks the insightful comments received from Sampurna Chattarji; the edits helped to frame the poem as it stands at present.)
← Nabanita Kanungo