Posted by: Ron DuBour | May 3, 2015

Crying~by Nutan Sarawagi


Please share this prayer of love and peace

 

Crying

Let’s cry for Nepal…
by the ruins of Kathmandu – cultural heritage;
by all who have lost their hovels, their shops,
their temples, their business, their references;
by all who wander stunned, hungry and blind,
in streets and alleys that only resist in memory;
by the unburied dead beneath thousands stones.
Yes, let’s cry for Nepal…

Who cries by the mothers who wander stunned
by streets and ancient alleys between shacks and rats,
in futile search of her son buried in negligent silence
by continuous avalanche of other ulceratives stones?

Let’s cry for Alps…
By insanity and inhumanity – universal heritage;
by all the anguish and terror of those ten minutes
when life became a white grave;
bitter mark, freezed and perennial, like testimony
of the huge cliffs where we plunge
when the soul, by neglect, dies of starvation.
Yes, let’s cry for Alps…

Who cries by the elderly who plummet of stretchers
in the icy corridors of hospitals – filthy graves –
supported only by Death, bitter witness
of the anguish and solitude in its most crude and cruel state?

Let’s cry for Sudan’s girls…
By perpetuated ignorance – natural heritage;
by all the victims of unspeakables fanaticisms
who are falsely transformed in laws and commandments;
by myopic reductionism that raises walls;
by all tomorrows traded in the terror
of the unfortunate women erased from history.
Yes, let’s cry for Sudan’s girls…

Who cries by the childrens with stolen childhood
out of fear, violence, hunger and abandonment – terror
perpetuated in countless returns to a helplessness
so absolute that disallows any poem or melody?

Let’s cry for all media tragedies, yes.

But we’ll keep at least a small tear – just one –
to pour by small immensities of anonymous tragedies
that night and day bloom in our backyards and balconies
while our eyes look far away, as empty vessels.

(Odete Sanabio)

(This is a literal translation of my poem originally written in Portuguese, to meet the request of a friend. I believe that a poem translated is always poorer, because it loses the rhymes, the tempo and underlying meanings of many words. My friends who have English as a first language, I anticipate my apologies for possible – and probable – grammatical mistakes.)


Responses

  1. Shared on FB… Tender poem, thank you for sharing with the world…


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