No god-sized events to greet a fateful morning
Just a kite wheeling idly,
High in an already hot sky
No lightning to burn out the pain
No thunder to drown the roar of multitudes
Mud down an ancient mountainside
Burying each other and everyone else
A multitude of shadows,
Walk with you, divide and dissolve
Watch you divide and dissolve
And no rain to kill the shadows in the dust
The earth dries and opens as you watch
Pries open each wound and tuft of grass
There is no thirst; blood dries and cakes behind the eyes
Umashankar, May 9,1998
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem