Friday, January 26, 2018

PUSH




No one around,
before the paper deity
dead flowers
giving me the push
"Quick, get up," I hear


http://www.boloji.com/poem/24793/push 









Tuesday, January 16, 2018

Some Recent Poems, from Bangalore, in LIFE AND LEGENDS

HOMA
Random flames in colors
meld unnamed images of fire
freezing on the kitchen walls
the soot thickens solitude
with dimming watery eyes
and asthmatic mantra
mother offers homa
each day and night
but no Agni is pleased
.
I WALK AGAIN
Rheumatic walking
the crippling lumbar crisis
they pity and pass
the waiting sun
at the naked tree’s corner
my hazy vision
managing to survive
with repair and maintenance
ageing road
revives the dying nerves
her momentary smile in sleep–
I walk again
.
JOURNEY
To win elections
they sponsor chaos chanting
Modi  Modi
kill tongues that utter dissent
or oppose foolishness
in the name of Ram
cow, love-jehad, reform
close all windows
making dysfunctional
the holy constitution
with small deities
watching periodic tango
pop up dinners
global collaborations
in newer territories
without money pouring in
dreams rise and sell
feet forward, head backward
relishing lies of
gourmet journey
.
RESURRECTION
The deities are dumb
so they speak
louder and louder
vie with each other
for godhood
descend from mosque top
to Supreme Court
now await
resurrection
.
NOISY SILENCE
Unemptied
the cup of remorse–
begging bowl
before the dumb deity
years of noisy silence
*****

http://lifeandlegends.com/ram-krishna-singh-2/
.

Saturday, January 13, 2018

Adão Wons translates my poem into Portuguese

Turns off the mood
for prayer in the park--
smelly underarm
of a fellow walker
running to reduce weight

--R K Singh
 
Desliga o humor
para a oração no parque -
axila mal cheirosa
de um colega andador
correndo para reduzir o peso.
-R.K. Singh

Translated by Adão Wons

The translated poem will appear soon in
Cotiporã Cultural that the poet edits

 

Monday, January 08, 2018

Joseph Berolo translates some of my poems

http://www.aveviajera.org/nacionesunidasdelasletras/id1202.html

Poet editor friend Joseph Berolo translates some of my poems and includes my biobibliography in the latest edition of Naciones Unidas de las Letras, Volumen No. XXVII   Año 27, January 2018Querido Joseph Berolo. Gracias por el honor acordado a mi poesía en Naciones Unidas de las Letras  permitiéndome llegar a su numerosa audiencia. Reciba usted y todos los miembros  de Uniletras mis mejores deseos póeticos.

AFTER THE ACT
Después del Acto 

They practice death
in school and blame India:
terrorist politics.
Ellos ejercen muerte
en la escuela y culpan a ka  India
de politicas terroristas*

No wake-up call
be it Nawaz or Modi
power luxury
in angel costume
each invokes divine
condemnation.

Sin llamada de alerta
bien sea de Nawaz o Modi,
la lujuria del poder
vestido de ángel,
cada cual invocala condenación divina 
 
After the act
ritual truth burial
and peace politics.
Después del acto
el entierro ritual de la verdad
y  las politicas de paz.

2.
YOU CAN'T SCENT ME

In the poems I write
you can read my mind
even know when I'm blue
before the mirror
when I stand in the dark
you can't scent me
nor will words comfort
in chilly December
when alone in candle light
empty coffee cups
deride the syllables
I spin to make haiku
my hairs in air
reveal the baldness:
wank without wad.  


No puedes con mi esencia

Puedes leer mi mente/
en los poemas que escribo/
aún cuando estoy lívido/
ante el espejo/.
Cuando permanezco en la sombra
/no puedes con mi esencia/ .
Las  palabras de consuelo/
en un diciembre helado/cuando solo a la luz de un candil/
con tasas de café vacías/,
se burlan de las sílabas/
yo doy vueltas componiendo haiku/
mi cabello crispado/
refleja la calvicie:una paja sin varita mágica. 

3.DEBRIS OF DREAMS

It's near butevery place has a distanceand people toothey flee to seeme in their vicinitysense a dangerI don't belong:they curse me for what I'm notself-made miserytraps them to hellI can't help their doom nor stoptheir wanton ragedown to smallnessthey hate only themselves andsculpt new sorrowsI must erasethe debris of dreams they leaveand be at peace.
 
 
Restos de sueños
 

Está cerca pero
cada lugar tiene una distancia
 y la gente también.
Huye para no verme  en la vecindad
sentir el peligro
al que no pertenezco.
Me maldicen por lo que no soy.
Su miseria consentida
en el infierno los atrapa..
Nada puedo hacer en su condena,
no puedo detener su rabia sin sentido
 reducida a nada...
Yo debo borrar los restos
de los sueños que ellas dejan
 y estar en Paz. 
4.
Dreams of Clay 
They make my face
ugly in my own sight
what shall I see in the mirror?
there is no beauty
or holiness left
in the naked nation:
the streams flow dark
and the hinges of doors moan
politics of corruption
I weep for its names
and the faces they deface
with clay dreams

Sueños de arcilla
Ellos afean mi rostro
ante mi mismo.
¿Qué debo ver en el espejo?
Allí no hay belleza
ni queda santidad
en la nación desnuda:
los riachuelos corren negros
y las bisagras de las puertas gimen
politicas corruptas.
Lloro por ellos  
y los rostros que desfiguran 
con sus sueños de arcilla.
 Traductor Joseph Berolo