They discuss it colonialism and post-colonialism
And call it a modern critical canon
Which after hearing it,
Laugh I
As the White man’s burden
Wanted you yourself to disown and dislodge it
While shooting an elephant,
Trying to appease the exotic crowd,
A sahib you under the hat,
With a rifle or a revolver
And in marking the other officers
Lamenting it not
As for the death of some Indian coolies
Trampled by the elephant.
The other matter of apathy is this, they understand it not even now
The legacy of the fact,
The present state govt. and the people of the town
That you were born in India’s,
Bihar, Motihari,
A tiny town,
Lived for a year in a white man’s bungalow
Before departing for England
With your mother and sister
As your father used to work as an agent
Under the opium department.
Orwell, I can still see you, feel you
Going through your Animal Farm,1984, Burmese Days,
A writer born here,
Before departing for England.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem