Cry Poem by Kanishka SricharanPratap

I cry,
Not only cry,

My soul cries,
Bursts in sobbing.

I have learned this cry
Carrying the testicle on head
Oiling
Cleaning ticks,
From leaders.

Agriculture, Education, Health
Mines, Forest, Industry
Literature, Culture...
In which file
Have I not got signature?
Have I not?

Signed
Made others sign,
Swallowed what I got.

Eating and eating...
I sent my sons
To America
Britain, France, German...,

One is there doctor
One is engineer
One is professor
Another is scientist,

My bank account
Is also there.

Now you are beating
Drums
Cymbals
Tambourine...,
You beat.

I am posting
Photos of my sons
Grandsons
In social media
Too much in numbers
In serials...
Photos of their awards
Certificates
And hot-news.
For uplift of our nation.

Crying... Wiping tears
From my eyes:
'Nothing could be here
Fruitless is this country!
Thieves, dacoits, murderers...
Are everywhere! '

Beat
Beat more and more...
Drums
Cymbals
Tambourine...
Restlessly,
In tunes now.


Translated from Odia by
Subash Chandra Mohapatra