The Mirror, The Mud Around The Axis, The Melancholy Poem by achuthan vatakketath ravi

have you seen me my bosom friends?
how long i have been searching myself!

now, like a sad epigram, it's clear
i am not found out yet by myself.

the mirrors stuck on the huge pillars
have now been gone to sand spreads
ashamed of the faces they remembered,
for the ages that sought the great sleep.
with the great hope of a serene culture,
as in the past they, the children, bore;

but the shores have been covered by the mud;
like the nun's headdress flowing down, round
the face onto the shoulders, a veil of secrecy;
the kids had grown up and gone to the piracy
the whole river has been drunk and drained
by the men to quench their thirst of greed.

and i hear now a sound echoing in my ears:
the avalanche cracking off the mountains
a huge stone hitting, in fearful shudders,
the glass doors of a frail life, a turbid estuary.

in a frightening solitude in the void,
it was the melancholy of the axis,
with a slight tilt for the smooth spin,
not for herself, but for us, for us only
like the sole remnant to say,
'i have lost my flesh that fed you,
you've drained me squeezing the veins
i thought you were with me, always
were you with me, were you with me...
to spin in unison the world together.'