Two poems by Sitanshu
Yashachandra
Sea Horses
A flash of boats blooms across ocean fields.
Sailors may take root
But what about sea horses?
Hoofless sea horses graze on green pearls.
Riding sea horses, divers jump high walls
Of confinement.
If the sea horse finds a foothold
On the hot spine of subaqautic fire
The flare jumps like a colt.
Before the eyes of drowning sailors
Sea horses inch along with fish
Sliding by shark jaws full of flame and god.
Then, sea horses will follow in shoals
To receive offerings from shriveled sailors.
A final question:
What about the hoofless sea horses
On the stony fields of the sea?
Under Stones
What could be under stones? Diamonds.
What else could be under stones? Water. Perhaps.
Where? Under the stones, maybe.
Really?
What could be under stones? Lava, diamonds
For sure. There’s water under stones.
Was sindoor smeared and oil poured? No?
Tinsel costumes and lotuses of ghee?
What then?
The customary icon was installed
And over it a continuous trickle of water.
Now what will happen? Will it lie beneath stones?
Perhaps.
I have hurled countless stones into the sky. So?
Somewhere four feet and an arrow, somewhere
Seven men and a woman, somewhere
A hunter. Somewhere a deer and moon formation
Staring at each other, speechless, lost in thoughts
Of their hunter and killer. Somewhere
A pole star in this ever changing immensity.
You don’t say! Incomprehensible stones
In incomprehensible sky flung by the unwise.
I named countless stones, and stones are also light
And on stones is breath and on stones is water.
Murmur and gurgle – what could be under stones?
What could be in stones?
What could stones be?
Translated from the Gujarati
By Saleem Peeradina, Rasik Shah, Jayant Parekh, and Gulam Mohammed Sheikh.
Sea Horses
A flash of boats blooms across ocean fields.
Sailors may take root
But what about sea horses?
Hoofless sea horses graze on green pearls.
Riding sea horses, divers jump high walls
Of confinement.
If the sea horse finds a foothold
On the hot spine of subaqautic fire
The flare jumps like a colt.
Before the eyes of drowning sailors
Sea horses inch along with fish
Sliding by shark jaws full of flame and god.
Then, sea horses will follow in shoals
To receive offerings from shriveled sailors.
A final question:
What about the hoofless sea horses
On the stony fields of the sea?
Under Stones
What could be under stones? Diamonds.
What else could be under stones? Water. Perhaps.
Where? Under the stones, maybe.
Really?
What could be under stones? Lava, diamonds
For sure. There’s water under stones.
Was sindoor smeared and oil poured? No?
Tinsel costumes and lotuses of ghee?
What then?
The customary icon was installed
And over it a continuous trickle of water.
Now what will happen? Will it lie beneath stones?
Perhaps.
I have hurled countless stones into the sky. So?
Somewhere four feet and an arrow, somewhere
Seven men and a woman, somewhere
A hunter. Somewhere a deer and moon formation
Staring at each other, speechless, lost in thoughts
Of their hunter and killer. Somewhere
A pole star in this ever changing immensity.
You don’t say! Incomprehensible stones
In incomprehensible sky flung by the unwise.
I named countless stones, and stones are also light
And on stones is breath and on stones is water.
Murmur and gurgle – what could be under stones?
What could be in stones?
What could stones be?
Translated from the Gujarati
By Saleem Peeradina, Rasik Shah, Jayant Parekh, and Gulam Mohammed Sheikh.
JAISALMER 3 by Gulam Mohammed Sheikh(Translated by Saleem Peeradina and the author.)
Raising its head above the fort, the city
was looking earthward :
Charming, rows of houses,
and still more delightful, the lane winding
through the ruined mansions.
The majestic city was peering down from above.
Then came
camels trumpeting funnels of dust:
grey, brown, swift-footed camels
taking the town as if by storm
and on their way out,
hauling away the fort on their backs.
Speechless, naked.
The city
stood outraged: hesitated for a moment
then shamelessly went after
the dust-spirals.
(1963)
Raising its head above the fort, the city
was looking earthward :
Charming, rows of houses,
and still more delightful, the lane winding
through the ruined mansions.
The majestic city was peering down from above.
Then came
camels trumpeting funnels of dust:
grey, brown, swift-footed camels
taking the town as if by storm
and on their way out,
hauling away the fort on their backs.
Speechless, naked.
The city
stood outraged: hesitated for a moment
then shamelessly went after
the dust-spirals.
(1963)