Aathmaanaam: Translations from Heaven and Hell

Kiss     Give a kiss In a furore when you are moving ahead Your girlfriend comes Without any hesitation hold her in a tight hug and give a long continuous soothing kiss Seeing you let the others too kiss their girl friends Kiss is a symbol of freedom After you give a kiss you forget and fuse At the bus stop under the train in the library amidst the crowded parks inside the shopping malls with shrunken homes and the blown-up city's bustling streets kissing is the only way Do not let go a kiss to convey your love to convey your adventure to prove your existence in the available few seconds any other better device than a kiss is hard to find Start your kissing affair today now this moment Come on quick your next lady love is waiting keep advancing Two thousand years after the birth of Christ we are moving towards the twenty first century Eliminating all the obscene body movements cleanly kiss kiss with a kiss and start the kiss...

The Lake A newly formed lake was waiting for me The sharply edged grass laying disorderly guarded the lake on it's playful ends The Sky was working on it's facial makeup with great care Part of the grass wandered here and there like weaver birds A few clay blocks that did not become bricks were watching the traffic of the trains Don't know why only I was writing a poem Foot Note: Yeah ... Good Question ... Why do we write poetry? And what match is it for those other elements of life and nature ...

The Little princess has come She spreads the clips from the box Catches the dirt on the wall as she would catch a fly She sees the cuckoo newly everyday She shouts in the crowd of people Stairs are her world Whoever she sees are her friends She doesn't have anything to cry for except when hungry She is a happiness that brims within herself Every moment is a continuation of joy When called by name she will turn around Her penetrating sight will infiltrate you and will go beyond Foot Note : Another mischievous poem about the little princess

I am I From the branches of the drumstick tree leaves fall life goes on Painter of the sky in blue Sculptor of the cloud structures Presenter of the scenic trees Provider of the white foam to the sea Sand, Mountain, Worm, and Insect It's me It's me It's me Foot Note : Who am I? I am God. I am a creator and hence I am God.

Write   I did not say how to write Nothing unfavorable happens in your lines The silent Buddhas wandering the wastelands let this world to be in ruins and go with the flow of time overlooking everything Not even the distant echo of  the groans of the guy squashed by this rock world is heard The sound of the words die within them Write for at-least the sound of friction of the pen tip on paper be heard Foot Note : Express yourself

The sound aroused Sound has arisen from the sea from the beetle from the carelessly cut fields from the painting and finally from a word Peace began to deteriorate From the clutches of the sound it started running and hiding Sound that did not let silence to be seen faded with a loud shout Silence formed Silence everywhere Fearing silence the world started shouting Sound and Silence started their rule in turns After some time sound and silence began to get used to co-exist became inseparable ones At the rim of the sound stretch silence began it's penance for peace Foot Note: The Sound of Silence

2083 August 11 I found one of my poems in the year 2083 by the seashore Me and Gnanakoothan were in conversation When we opened the chickpeas wrapped paper There were these words A line on the paper Aathmaanaam Wondering I asked Gnanakoothan Are we still here To which he replied From the heap of baked bricks a single stone slips How strange is this to be in the same place I said Where is Nakulan I asked He died the next day after Naveenan died said Gnanakoothan What's your recent poem I asked A B C D E F G he said I thanked him At that point we heard the blast of a nuclear bomb We both returned to our refugee camp Foot Note : Asimov meets Aathmaanaam ...

The Beginning Before coming here There were A big rock This sea which is tirelessly shouting and wallowing Glacier River that glows in the sunshine Laterite soil, Clay, Alluvial soil A big dust aroused by the wind When all these function elsewhere A Homa Kunda in your belly the inferno soars and soars and spreads as a ball of fire Fire-flowers inside you Sky is up and down Silence everywhere Greenery In a billionth of a speck of dust As a tiny atom I was born Amidst the blinking stars

Moreover Pigeons fly away with diamonds on their neck Parrots too chase themselves with lustrous love Crows 'caw' away in search of grains Sparrows titillate crawling on the branches In the moss spread lotus covered pond water the long-legged bird paddles slowly The squirrels that sit under the shore shade now and then lift up and show their heads as if some questions were asked to them The Shiva priest picks up water in the pot raving himself with the same mouth the utters the mantras The Chaste Women Crowd talking about stories in their town wash the clothes on the rocks of the shore on the other side and leave The Sun that was behind the fields rose up and fell on the heads of the boy who was herding the buffaloes Foot Note : What Vivid imagery ... A poem full of visuals ... What a story telling ... Life craves for more and more and more ...

Let Go   If these trees have mercy on me burn me If these flowers have mercy on me bury me If these humans have mercy on me let me live If these sparrows have mercy on me let me fly Footnote : Freedom from self. Osho says, ''Get out of your own way"".

(While) Resting at peace In the hug of these wondrous trees I am a kite Between the branches of the Neem tree I am a line of sunlight Amidst the Papaya plant's I am a sweetheart On the braided creepers I am a star Footnote : Rest in peace and be alive

Thanksgiving Like this sandal how many wane Like this handkerchief how many get squeezed Like this cloth how many are crushed For the sake of them all Thanks to you for leaving them at that Footnote : A poem for the oppressed. 

Brand New   I gave my pen to a child A line drawing A poem An epic It created and laughed at me A creation beyond wonder Summoned me Footnote : “It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.” - Pablo Picasso

The Vision I saw God I didn't feel like asking anything He too left with a smile Even then there was peace of mind Footnote : What more do you want from life? What more do you want from God? A simple, direct, poetic declaration.

Work Is your morning prayer done Then That's your food Instead of wandering around Just go and sleep Footnote :  An anti-poem ... a parody ...

The Plant Like a lemon plant that grew in sewage water The fruits that I give will be big and sour If you add a little sugar and drink it won't it be good Footnote : It's plain, it's simple, it's direct ... Take everything with a pinch of sugar ...

Titles will form on their own It seems as if it has been a quite long time since I have thought about you After having eaten away the scales of the brain inside me where were you hiding Is it because you knew that I always have the habit of understanding exactly the opposite Let's leave all this chit-chat and come to the point When we last met I guess we were taking about movements Now do you see is that one movement that exists It seems as if it has been a quite long time since I have thought about you Footnote : Does the title of the poem connect with the poem itself or does it stand aloof? Is this about the various art and literary movements the world has seen? Note the philosophical tone. A nice soliloquy.

Poems of the Mind 1. He looked at the toilet ceiling he is not going to hang himself even then he looked 2. His hand was outside the window of the bus his fingers fell chopped titillated he gathered his fingers his journey continues again 3. The crowd was waiting he too began The cameras were on And then suddenly a machine gun The world stopped for a moment A crowd gathered around him A crowd gathered around him too Within him continued a moment The gathering ended and a crowd gathered around him 4. The sea waves were tirelessly abating The fish around started to bite him little by little From a distance one could only see it happening 5. The child started crying the relations were just worth laughing at Footnote: The title spawns an interesting question ... Do we write poems from the mind? Osho says that the center of consciousness need not be the mind ... it could be the navel ... it could be any other part for that matter ... Consciousne...

A letter to the Little Princess Hello How are you What new game have you found now How is your Scamp Between the flowering plants on the lawn beneath the green trees so high with butterflies around between the wooden walls from inside it's red kennel Scamp peeps out Outside there was a brown dog Scamp came out wondering what's happening Don't you know our gathering is under the tree Come soon, he said He made his way through the multi-colored dogs Asked a question we have gathered here to honor our chief What did he find with modesty Scamp said Carrying the bag behind The crowd dispersed The next story is for you to say With Love Forever Yours Footnote : The seemingly disconnected dots (lines) are connected by the 'little princess' ... Scamp (A Walt Disney Character) seems to be her another identity. Convoluted in appearance this children's poem is for the adult child. An evocative poem. Mischief brews itself and hides behind inno...

Music / Sound Wind me as a string in a violin Let us see if then at-least I can voice With that much perfection With that much softness With that much sharpness Chorusing with all the strings together Deep inside sound's deserted space so so softly an echo is heard Listening carefully It's the same perfection It's the same softness It's the same sharpness Footnote : Aathmaanaam's appreciation for musical bliss is evident from this poem. Diving deeper one could sense a longing and 'not belonging''.

My Rose-lings I am going to meet my two rose-lings this evening They know that I am coming I understand their swaying branches in the wind that prepare to welcome me with excitement They look at me in communion I enter the room after a smile I remove my footwear wash my face wipe it with a flower embroidered towel look at myself in a mirror and then come out lift a mug of water on my hand and pour it on my rose-lings more than the water I pour I am important to them They ask me softly what I did today Not wanting to lie that 'I was thinking only about you today' I list my deeds of the day I also tell them the moment I thought about them With a smile they tell me to go and sleep and that we will meet the next day morning I see them once again close the door and lie on the bed thinking about the approaching morning Footnote : The tense in the original shifts from future to present to past. I have maintained present tense in this translation....

Dream Acknowledge my dreams now I would at least have the relief that I lived before I left Why play this game of hide and seek When our faces see head-on light brightens up It is you I see your life beneath it's sea of ugliness It is hard to search you in beauty you are definitely not there I see your dream world among those millions of desires none are justifiable A dream a day and a dream within that dream Realizing that it was difficult to search you I created my own dream Acknowledge it now Footnote : It is interesting to watch the 'I' versus 'you' conflict and the circular loop structure. On Nov 12, 2016 8:54 PM

Aathmaanaam Aathmaanaam's first poetry collection titled 'A line on the paper' proved a unique view that poetry is a crowd of words. This book is a device that helps to group the 'codes' that hit us. This anthology depicts a scape that helps us to stop and identify the loud voices arising from culture, at that very moment they get generated. News present as a black shadow, as distracted light and in many more forms and at many more places paint the poetic scape. Socio-cultural 'I's and the individual 'I' are deconstucted through these poems. This begins the era of a new language and way of expression in the world of poetry that could soon become a norm. -  As introduced by Brammaraajan in the back cover of Aathmaanaam's poetry book titled 'Aathmaanaam poems' ... September 1989 Front Cover Art of the book 'Aathmaanaam poems' Abstract Art by Mexican Artist Leonardo Nierman I have tried to translate below the...