The Shared Mirror

Don't see me

as a useless blind shell

and throw me away

in disgust

For a minute

hold me to your ear

with patience.

Through me

you can listen to

infinite roars of the ocean.

Though you've separated

my ocean from me

I've assimilated the whole ocean in myself.

Whatever inference

you may draw from that roar,

I speak that language.

My translation of Sikhamani's Telugu poem 'aalcippa' from his collection of poetry, muvvala chEtikarra. 

This parrot

hadn't even seen eighteen springs.

Leaving the world, the cage of swords,

and its paper springs

it flew away to the faraway jungle,

eating guns and bayonets

as tender leaves.

It played ball with bombs.

While other children of its age

played with toy donkeys

it played with axes.

It hadn't even completed

practising on leaf slates

the alphabet of its experiences

to read and rule the world

when hunters, spotting its red beak,

shot it down.

The parrot died

but the jungle is still spreading.

My translation of the Telugu poem 'cilakaa-aDivii' by Sikhamani (from his collection of poetry 'muvvala cEtikarra' ).