Twenty-six years have passed.
Our first meeting,
North of Colombo,
a house on the beach.
flowers and creepers;
Beyond the fence,
fearful and shy
lovers trembling in passionate embrace.
Waves breaking incessantly.
For both of us
the agony and haste
of flight to safety.
The spark of righteous anger
a straight line on the sea,
unswerving we stayed the course,
reaching the Hague
where dawn and dusk
merged as one.
“Goluhathavaththin thunveniyamatta” -
your music my lullaby.
When Subha was born,
I heard her cry
I saw your tears.
Scattered like floating lotus
defying land and time,
our wings gained strength.
Your life the essence of kindness.
Divided by land and sea and space,
our dreams
a constant bridge.
“Son, where are you?
I don’t hear your voice,
send me your picture.”
The messages you sent.
The telephone bursting with
love.
A short life,
what did we learn?
We are puddles
created by chance;
not crystals of love;
poetry, music and freedom
remain always entwined;
we can tread on fire, or
defy the wind;
we cannot lose our lives.
This year in the Hague
when we met,
my farewell was final.
From you
a smile and a tear.
R. Cheran | September 11, 2013
Translated from Tamil by Chelva Kanaganayakam
Our first meeting,
North of Colombo,
a house on the beach.
flowers and creepers;
Beyond the fence,
fearful and shy
lovers trembling in passionate embrace.
Waves breaking incessantly.
For both of us
the agony and haste
of flight to safety.
The spark of righteous anger
a straight line on the sea,
unswerving we stayed the course,
reaching the Hague
where dawn and dusk
merged as one.
“Goluhathavaththin thunveniyamatta” -
your music my lullaby.
When Subha was born,
I heard her cry
I saw your tears.
Scattered like floating lotus
defying land and time,
our wings gained strength.
Your life the essence of kindness.
Divided by land and sea and space,
our dreams
a constant bridge.
“Son, where are you?
I don’t hear your voice,
send me your picture.”
The messages you sent.
The telephone bursting with
love.
A short life,
what did we learn?
We are puddles
created by chance;
not crystals of love;
poetry, music and freedom
remain always entwined;
we can tread on fire, or
defy the wind;
we cannot lose our lives.
This year in the Hague
when we met,
my farewell was final.
From you
a smile and a tear.
R. Cheran | September 11, 2013
Translated from Tamil by Chelva Kanaganayakam
No comments:
Post a Comment