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Translated by Rajaram Brammarajan


The world passes with sunshine and showers
the smell of eucalyptus in the air
The queen butterfly and the king butterfly
Are making love
The crow is masturbating
The khaki coloured guard butterfly
Flies closer to the earth.
The miracle sky shows
In the gaps between guava branches
Rain’s atoms are on blades of grass
The sky had rained diamonds all over the road
Your sun crosses
The shadows of my butterfly
An evening on the banks of our river
Somebody is barging into this photograph
The world passes with sunshine and showers

That is the city where there is a sea
That is where my lady love is
in the evenings
I have remained in tapas
in the temples for her sake
In spite of knowing her address
I have roamed
whether her face could be spotted in some place
She who has the pitiless attitude of the city
Had filled me
with the same aloneness of city life.
That is the city where there is a sea
That is where my lady love is.
You who had come to rob my dreams
Just leave your poems
On the table
Unable to bear the penetrating look of my eyes
Now and then you shift your glances.
This is a city where
No croaking frogs are heard
Even during this rainy season.

The terracotta seeds-
After their sowing time
Sprouted as sculpted plants.
Leaves appeared and are now in bloom,
Like the rootless corpses of the mind sans appreciation.
Words swim in the aquarium
In Nitrogen cycle of fantasy’s excrement
Which become the burial vaults of sperms.
In the village market streets
Where the poisonous breaths disperse widely
Mobile phones go missing
Balloons are sold out.
In the decayed flames of candles
Bespectacled children
Complete their homework.
Poisoned blue corpse
Travels on a hearse.
With the sighs emanating in empty holes
from the lake that froze and hardened
The imprisoned text of the lightning
Sets itself,
Unable to bear the heat of the scorching flame.

His ailment is writing poems while sleeping.
Seeing the earth with blooming polythene bags
He declares that the earth is flat
They considered pelting him with stones
And then forgave.
Since this poem will begin in the seventh line-
The metaphor that the star dust in the tottering orbit of the earth,
And the simile
that an insomniac’s fidgeting in the bed resembles the sea-
When the thought crosses the mind
Whether these have been already written,
This poem will end
in the first line.
Bell flowers are hanging
like your face.
His hand ruminates stretching.
Breaking the midnight’s skull
A star appeared.
Now his hand woke up.
Using the torch light,
Wrote a poem and went to bed.
A flute found me out
When I was flying inside a rock.
When her smile is squeezed
Tears drip.
She didn’t know the scientific name of the insect
That abducted and made love to her.
But she knew that he was
In her dreams.
He is not going to write that love poem with the title
‘Washed plums are waiting’
I am an idol
I am a sculpture
In a silky dream
The face
That completes your silence.
In the forest of silence
The trees of solitude
The fragile magic in your eyes
It is revealed to all.
The joint silence of million stars
Wisdom is born to someone
To penetrate the darkness of my poems.


Feature–Tamil Writing

    Rajaram Brammarajan

    K S Subramanian – ‘Sangam Women Poetry’

    Kavin Malar
    Leena Manimekalai
    Paampaati Siddhan
    Riyas Qurana
    Sangam Women Poets
    Thenmozhi Dass

Short Fiction
    Lakshmi Kannan: ‘Savvyasachi Square’

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