The burning country,
Crows crowing
While pinda-dana continuing for the dead father.
The burning country
By river banks
Underneath the peepul tree
Pinda-dana continuing.
On the one hand lay it the dry river
With the burnt logs
While on the other pinda-dana continuing
On the ghat.
Under heat and dust,
Sweltering and sweating of heat
And dust swirling at some nook and corner
Pinda-dana continuing.
Pinda-dana,
Pinda-dana for the soul,
The spirit,
The soul gone by.
A handful of food for the soul
Bereaved and departed,
A handful of for the ritual sake,
A litter of water drops.
Pinda-dana,
Pinda-dana continuing
Under heat and dust
In the country.
The doer doing
The pinda-dana,
The priest helping it
In getting it done.
For the shantih,
Shantih of the soul,
The spirit gone by
And bereaved.
The soul departed,
Departed
And bereaved,
Orphaned and wandering.
Not settled,
Settled yet,
The soul,
Lost soul.
The hamlet by the river
With the dry banks
And the pinda-dana,
Pinda-dana continuing.
Continuing under
The peepul tree
From whom lies it hanging
The asthi-kalasha.
The asthi-kalasha,
Asthi-kalasha
Under the peepul tree,
Peepul tree.
By the banks,
Banks of the dry river
Lying
Waterless and dried down.
Pinda-dana,
Pinda-dana,
Pinda-dana for the soul
Bereaved and departed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem