A Poem Entitled ‘Eternity’ By Sitanshu Yashaschandra

Sitanshu Yashaschandra


Sitanshu Yashaschandra

The sun habitually

cajoles men with red lollipops.

Day is mother’s lap–in her colourfully printed sari

one hides the face and rests.

The whole day 

 we keep hiding behind things

but the night.

A Jewish poet of Manhattan had said in my presence once

“I love you, but I don’t like you.”

When I love the universe manifested

in the passionate body of the night,

I am not myself.

Amidst eternal stars

the moon, of many deaths and many births, 

 must be ashamed of himself. 

Each human being knows this

within himself. 

And still 

throwing away even that little veil

the fourteenth of every dark fortnight

the new moon night

presents its star-studded, exquisite body 

to me shamelessly.

Then from within me also rises

one who doesn’t even care for me

a super-human devoid of humanity

stretches his hand towards the next dawn

catches hold of the fresh sun

and in the lovely but unknown space of the night

throws it… 

(Translated from Gujarati by Varsha Das)


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