For Some Morning..

Nature has no curiosity
for everything is
unmoving unchanging
the constant whirl
is only a different stillness
days and nights
are unceasing explosions
life a perpetual rebirth
time the monotonous recurrence
of a single moment..

you are beside me
and the bridge of our arms
spans the sky
bur look the stream that touches the sea
is static and still
merely a constant backflow
of the ocean’s expanse

the sky has no complaints
all the happenings
are patterns of shadows
are hearty laughter
of the waves in the seas
and conspiracy of colours
in the impassive sky
colours die in the clouds
clouds blend in the birds’s twitter
and twitter get lost in blossoms,for a while.

A spell is cast on sky sea and cloud
but then comes the dreadful silence
quiet and self-effacing
silence comes as an echo in vacant moments
as uncontrolled laughter, during conversation
a respite between two experiences
a lull between dreams, an interval in age
and distance of hand and hand
silence reigns supreme, in the roar of waves
in the child’s cry
in the chanting of mantras
in the overflowing floods
of words after words after words

Nights have no worries, for darkness is a measure
of passage of unhappiness
while trees wait vigilant
the bridge stays unchanged
on both sides of the shore
whether I ‘m with you or without you
I seek to fulfill the distance mornings..

only in my dreams, the sea has no anxiety
between the patience and
the restlessness of waves,
our intimacy gets recorded
only in very small measure
in the riddles of casual narration
and in sequences of exclamation
and punctuation marks..

when the waves wipe away
sands and seashells and our brief acquaintance
we can only invoke the morning
with a prayer on our lips
while our hands frame
the last sunset on the sea..

(c) – By Jagannath Prasad Das
Translated from ‘Oriya” by the Poet.


2 Responses to “For Some Morning..”

  1. 1 Max Babi
    September 23, 2007 at 10:34 am

    Entropy (I should have taken on this name, since Entropy was my favourite concept during the study of thermodynamics, long long ago when Dev Anand didn’t look like a horror that woke up from his grave after rotting for decades -why don’t they ban his horrific appearances on TV?)

    J.P. Das, is new to my collection of Indian poets.
    Don’t know about the quality of his translation, but it makes a good read.
    There’s a smooth flow to this introspective poem that meanders on like a virgin brook.

    Thanks for introducing him to us. The only Oriya poet who also writes well in English,
    used to be Joyonto Mohapotro -the kindly professor of physics from Cuttack, who encouraged me
    in writing English poetry when I was a pimply faced adolescence trying to find my feet.
    Now when I have found them, they have gone numb ! Once I diverted my taxi to be at his residence, but he was away at Kolkata when I last visited Cuttack, a sleepy little town.
    May he live long, he is a wonderful poet.



  2. 2 Nimesh Dadia
    September 24, 2007 at 4:02 pm

    Dear Lao Aju

    It a an incredible poetry. It has the rawness of the Vedantic Philosophy and the fluidity and romance of a Love Sonnet. And how can i say anything more after Guruji has already given his Tathastu.

    Thanks for sharing Lao AJu.


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