In Late August By Peter Campion In Hindi/Urdu Translation Poem by Ravi Kopra

Airport k paas ek tooti si puleeya k neechay
jung bhra paani dobachay main gir raha hai
jahan do hiran ek doosray ki rakhwaali kartay
paani pee rehay hain. Door se imaartaiN
barcode aur microships si lagti huiN
akash main dhundlapan bikhaar rehi hain
San-naata sa cHaya hua hai.
Aag ki tinkay bhar ki bhi koi jhalak nahin.
Chaltay logoN k kutuNmb koi wahaN nahin.

-to be con'd.


In Late August
BY PETER CAMPION

In a culvert by the airport
under crumbling slag
wine colored water seeps
to this pool the two does
drink from: each sipping as
the other keeps look out.
The skyline is a blur
of  barcode and microchip.
Even at home we hold
the narrowest purchase.
No arcs of tracer fire.
No caravans of fleeing
families. Only this
suspicion ripples
through our circles of lamp glow
(as you sweep the faint sweat
from your forehead and flip
another page in your novel)
this sense that all we own
is the invisible
web of our words and touches
silence and fabulation
all make believe and real
as the two does out
scavenging through rose hips
and shattered drywall:
their presence in the space
around them liveliest
just before they vanish.