Ch J Satyananda Kumar

Rookie (25-04-1955 / Amadalavalasa, Srikakulam, AP, India, now living at Visakhapatnam)

From Viswambhara - Poem by Ch J Satyananda Kumar

(This translated part is from the book ‘Viswambhara’ of Dr. C. Naryana Reddy, published by Visalandhra Publishing House, Hyderabad-1)

Telugu Original:

Aaramoosina kaLLalO Avirbhavistunnaayi
Chirunavvulu chekkukunna mukhaalu
Varaalu kuripistunna nEtraalu
Verapunu jadipistunna hastaalu
Muktiki moorti kattina paadaalu
RaaLLu paatukuntunnAyi
Rakarkala aakaaraalatO
Koyyalu kuduru kuntunnaayi
Kotta kotta roopaalatO
Dikkulu mokkulandu kontuNNayi
Divvelu vinatulandukunnaayi
Archanalandukunnayi asthikalu
Aalayaalu kattukunnaayi kEsakhandikalu
SaLLakaddukunnaadu taanu tokkina mattini
Talapai challukunnaadu
Tana kaaLLu nilichina neetini
ChEtuletti mokkutunnaadu
Chekumuki chimmina nippunu
Tana batukki mudivEsukunnaadu
Taaraachandrula gatulanu
Alankarinchukunnaadu medalO
Abhaya chihnaalanu
Addukunnaadu nudity pai
Aatmeeya viswaasaalanu
Pai mettu yekki pOvaalannaa
Paga vaani tokki pOvaalannaa
Kattukunna rahasyaala mootalu
Pattubadakundaa vundaalannaa
Vaana raavaalannaa
Varada pOvaalannaa
Madi pandaalannaa
Odi nindaalanna
Aa manasuku yEkaika saraNam
AtilOka samsmaraNam

English Translation:

In mildly closed eyes are materializing
Petite smile chiseled visages
Boon showering oculus
Fret frightening hands
Salvation idolizing feet.
Stones are gaining ground
With vivid profiles.
Timber logs are acquiring shapes
With diverse features.
Earth’s four corners are accepting prostrations
Lamps are receiving supplications and petitions
Osseous tissues are accepting worships
Tonsured pilus have built for them temples
He reverently touches to his eyes, the mud he treads
He pours on his head
The water trampled under his feet.
He raises his hands to worship
The fire made by flint stone.
He entwines to his life
The modes of moon and stars.
He adorns in his neck
Strange symbols to dispel fears.
He applies on his brow
The religious convictions.
To climb-up upper step
To trample enemy stiff
To avoid being caught,
The secret wealth he wrought
To get rain
The flood to drain
To let the farm get harvest
To fill his lap with heist
That heart has only one refuge
Adulation of celestial powers.


Comments about From Viswambhara by Ch J Satyananda Kumar

  • (12/18/2009 3:26:00 AM)


    there's a discenable flow in tune with the original. great attempt, sir! (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 15, 2009



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