Shailendra Sakar
No matter how much you scream in agony
Standing against God on the street
Or, in the ecstasy of happiness
Sing songs in admiration of life,
It bears no worth at all!
You cannot get communicated with anyone
Nor can you wake anyone up, and explain anything.
These people, absorbed in self-adoration like snakes
Do not listen to songs, or to your poems.
I know—
You are eternally talking of tales
Of the age’s joy and sorrow
You are eternally burning your self-esteem
And arranging the surge inside your hearts into lines.
In verses are you searching the tunes of life
You are whistling the tales of injustice and atrocities
And playing all ragas of your existence.
But what will you do, my dear singer,
The snakes do not listen to songs
No snake on earth,
Listens to poems.
No matter how high you scream as you sing,
These snake symbols carved in temples, are deaf
Getting drunk in a pre-arranged banquette of a festival,
These cobras with venomous fangs
Keep biting every juvenile future
And stand proudly in front of God.
I am sorry, my dear singer
The snakes do not listen to poems
Neither do they listen to songs.
Translated by Mahesh Paudyal
