Amrita Pritam

(31 August 1919 – 31 October 2005 / Gujranwala, Punjab / Pakistan)

Me - Poem by Amrita Pritam

Lots of contemporaries—
but 'me' is not my contemporary.

My birth without 'me'
was a blemished offering on the collection plate.
A moment of flesh, imprisoned in flesh.

And when to the tip of this tongue of flesh
some word comes, it kills itself.
If saved from killing itself,
it descends to the paper, where a murder happens.

Gunshot—
if it strikes me in Hanoi
it strikes again in Prague.

A little smoke floats up,
and my 'me' dies like an eighth-month child.
Will my 'me' one day be my contemporary?


Poet's Notes about The Poem

[Translated from the Punjabi by D.H. Tracy & Mohan Tracy]

Comments about Me by Amrita Pritam

  • Rathod Vaishakh (7/28/2015 3:11:00 AM)

    wow i love amrita if she lives today i will meet her by selling my soul (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, September 24, 2012

Poem Edited: Monday, September 24, 2012


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