Kalidasa (375-415 AD), belonged to the second stage of
Sanskrit Literature when the Vedic hymns gave way to secular poetry and
drama.He is particularly noted for his three surviving verse dramas of
romantic love, Sakuntala, the most famous of the three; Vikramorvasi
(Urvasi Won by Valor); and Malavikagnimitra (Malavi and Agnimitra).
Kalidasa also wrote two epic poems, Raghuvamsa (Dynasty of Raghu) and
Kumarasambhava (Birth of the War God).
Kannamma My Love
Subramania Bharathi
(tr. prema nandakumar)
Are those flame-bright eyes, Kannamma! the Sun and the Moon? Does
the dark eye-ball, Kannamma! reflect the inky skies? Are the woven
diamonds gleaming on the raven silk robe the star-clusters above at
the middle of the night?
Is the lovely smile on your lips the shine of flesh blossoms? Are
the waves of the blue sea your heart-beats indeed? The sweetness of your
voice is heard in the nightingale. Youthful darling girl, Kannamma! I
love you to distraction.
You speak of Sastraic sanctions: what need of them here? No
scriptual texts control love's ecstatic play. Let the formal wedding
come later for our elder's sake- must I wait for aeons?- here's a
kiss for you!
supreme among twentieth century Tamil poets, has also been one of the
major creative forces of the modern renaissance in Tamil Nadu.
There is so much to be done; let us unroll the earth, let us put leaves
on the trees, blossoms on branches, let us set mountains in a row, hang
the moon; add vast space to blue heavens, light the stars, to the wind
give velocity, to stones, wings, to movement, melody; also smiles to
lips, glowlight to eyes, and to moving shadow on the
roadside, life. God is silent. Why don't you come And help create
the universe. I can't do this all by myself.
I have certainly no faith in miracles, yet I long that when death
comes to take me from this great song of a world, it permits me to
return to your door and knock and knock and call out: "If you need
someone
to share your anguish, your simplest pain, then let me be the one. If
not, let me again
embark, this time never to return, in that final direction, forever."
Faiz Ahmed Faiz (1910- 1984), was born in undivided
India, but after partition chose to live in Pakistan. In 1951, he was arrested
on the charge of planning a Communist coup; sentenced to death but released
after four years. After the Miltary coup led by Zia ul haq, he lived in exile in
Beirut-- till the Israeli invasion in 1982. He died in Lahore in November
1984.
Otherwise why should you be human
sakti chattopadhyay
(tr. Jayanta Mahapatra)
A group of mud-smeared dark boys Their loin-clothes raised above their
knees Excitedly catching fish, as they plunge into the water Beside the
ankle-high ridge in the middle of the pool. Over on the other side Their
loin-cloth pouches fill with little jiyal Their hollow hampers full already
Draining away water from one side of the pool Into the other half So
they can grab the fish with bare hands. Before the rains The earth dry and
parched The naked backs of the boys burning in the sun Like the outside of
earthen pots darkened In the smoke of burning sawdust While they
desperately pat themselves on the back With wet mud to bring down the summer
heat Trying hard - And later Would come the inevitable rolling in the
soft slime For this was not the time to use the usual Net-baskets of
bamboo. It's time now Simply to run over the lowly varieties of
fish And seize them And gulp the fish down, fried. Even if no cooking
oil is there. And if one is lucky to catch any shol Then, to roast this
fish and take these with a bowl of watered rice- Enough if there is a
little salt to go with it. In the first rains As mudskippers wriggle up
with whirring noises And streams rush down from high hillocks To fill the
pools, now clear and pellucid- Delighted, the small fish rise Erect with
their barbed bodies Becoming difficult to get a hold on them. And
bristles? Yes, there are. As there are ways and ways Or else life can't
go on. It is the same everywhere in the world It has to be caught the
right way. Otherwise it slips through your hands And isn't there your loss
or gain in this? But, let things be as they are. In the eyes of that man
behind One has to reach out for some such example Of success, struggle or
fear- Otherwise why should you be human? You could have been a shy mimosa
creeper!
sakti chattopadhyay
Sakti Chattopadhyay (b.1933) is a Bengali poet of the
post-partition period. A journalist since 1970, Sakti Chattopadhyay has more
than 60 books to his credit.
Poems from the Indian SubContinent
