THREE POEMS

 

By Seela Subhadradevi, Hyderabad, India

 

Translated by Popuri Jayalakshmi, Hyderabad, India.

 

 

 

Word Flow

 

(Translation based on Smt. Seela  Subhadra Devi’s  poem “Akshara Pravaham” )

 

Since I came of age

don’t remember mother help with writing,

like a bird feeding its fledglings

can’t  recall who crammed mouthfills of nourishing crumbs.

I only recollect my mother lament

if  I would ever learn my 3 r’s.

Since then, have been pecking words.

In that direction

my certificates blackened with four letters

though quench  my hunger

don’t satiate my mind’s appetite.

My self is full of them.

I swallow every letter coming my way

I don’t indulge in it to while away my time.

I chew them hard in my mind, slow and contented

and if gripe grips me midway, I give up.

Sometimes familiar words smear themselves with fresh meanings

get stuck in my throat

but the restless mind is keen as ever.

More……once more

I chew them and chaw

till my blood absorb their juices.

Healthful thoughts when savored

circulate through my body entire, and

my heart echoes health and cheer.

Brain chambers invigorated,

every cell roves with glee.

It is then

transmuted into a meaningful word flow

I well out of my pen. 

 

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My Small, Little Poem

(translation based on  Smt. Seela Subhadra Devi’s  poem “Chinni Naa Padyam” )

 

Sometimes intermittently

thought gets stuck

mind freezes.

Like a cuckoo looking for a song

when I look for words

letters fly away like birds,

don’t even come in the reach of my pen.

Expecting that somewhere something

would attract my vision

I look beyond horizons.

However far I stretch

magnetizing my glance for filings

not one comes my way,

Like serpents storm- scared

all lines slither away into some pit.

In journals, literary seminars

On TV and Radio

I am still looking for it in nooks and corners.

Castes, creeds and regions,

not knowing where to belong

my small, little poem

is sitting timidly

in the coiled center of heart’s pit.

 

 

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Dream Snippets

 

(translation based on Smt. Seela Subhadra Devi’s  poem “Kalala Mukkalu”)

 

Like a pen writing

stops exhausted of will

my moving and roving dream

snaps all of a sudden.

In the hangover, still the heart

Continues  tossing sensational songs.

Rising from the bright rainbow in the corners of my lips

We spread our heart out bathed in ardor

we stitch our eyelids with sleep’s thread

not prepared to see the world outside.

We invite dreams, but

the botched dream limps.

When we intend running dreams on green pastures

the morning’s routine

scares us even in our dreams.

That is all

like a moonbeam bursting from the coconut leaf edge

moon shreds are spread at the root of the tree.

Collecting the scattered dream snippets

In the ‘pallow’of our saree

we open our eyes.

Like horse in a mill

disinterested we complete our chores

no scope for thought in that.

Finding time

remember the forgotten dream!

Try putting together the pieces.

When have they melted and slipped away

from the washed and dried garment?

There’s not a single sample left!