The sun having emptied yet another lake
uproots blossoming water flowers
shoos away fish and water birds
and having emptied yet another lake
discards it by the roadside.
A darkened, mud-splashed cheek
with a scar-pit from brick-making
a decaying human head
of a suicide drowned by love.
Not those engaged in water sports
splashing upon the bluish waves,
but an aching heart, pierced, infected
by bottles now empty of pesticides.
Uproots blossoming water flowers
shoos away fish and water birds
the sun, having emptied yet another lake
discards it by the roadside.
Before the arrival of rain clouds
glaringly the sun looks around
does anyone dare approach the lake
to question its scorched stillness.
What answers from common crows?*
Even now, in Pettah
on Jam, Bo, Kottamba trees
when eggs crack and the young are hatched
what answers do the common crows have
in reply to their newborn’s questions?
Amma leaves early in the morning
the ekel broom balanced on her beak.
With neat ekel sweeps she tidies
flower gardens, vast compounds, public paths.
However much she toils
each new day, the disobedient
decaying leaves fall as usual.
Amma, why don’t we relocate
to somewhere with a garden of our own?
Thaththa sells imitation rings
and chains on congested city roads.
His nail-pierced wings fester
feathers detaching themselves,
one after the other.
In the evenings we watch
Thaththa’s feet swell up alarmingly.
Why can’t we have a better life
like the yellow bird or the blue dove?
Even now, in Pettah
On Jam, Bo, Kottamba trees
when eggs crack and the young are hatched
what answers do the common crows have
in reply to their newborn’s questions?
*
“What answers from common crows?” was originally published in Out of Sri Lanka: Tamil, Sinhala and English Poetry from Sri Lanka and its Diaspora, edited by Vidyan Ravinthiran, Seni Seneviratne, and Shash Trevett (Bloodaxe Books, 2023), and is republished here with permission.
Painting Courtesy of Hanan Youssef
