Telugu Poems:-

Sikhamani's poem


Bappa*



Except a hamlet, village less…..
except a caste, nameless…..
except hard labour, pleasure less…..
story of my Bappa, will you listen!

Bappa is not an ordinary one-----
like a tall papaya tree,
like a river that never looks back,
like a slender casuarina tree
that challenges the sky,
a very tall lady she was !
Tucking the sari,
as she headed for fields, with sickle on her shoulder,
like a six feet black cobra
standing on her tail end
was my Bappa!

What a lovely blackness!
blackness of clusters of rose apples,
blackness of a slice of tilled black cotton soil field,
blackness of black lotus blooming in abundance
in the irrigation channel!

Like the just harvested, spread
red chilly in the threshing yard
was the Vermillion mark on her dark forehead!

Apparently black in complexion only,
but my Bappa’s tenderness was
white as the flowers of water melon,
soft as silk cotton,
soothing as chilled gruel!

First my Bappa was born,
then toil has taken birth….
incarnation of a primitive tool was my Bappa!

At day break
crows on soap nut tree in the yard
looking at Bappa only
reckoned the hour!
Sweeping the front yard all the time

if she raised her broom held hand,
along with clouds,
all shimmering stars in the milky way
respectfully made way---
Diana at dawn turned pale
for her inability to remain spotless like the yard!

If she went to the pond to fetch water , enough,
water four steps below
lapped like young fish
kissing toes of my Bappa!

If monsoon breaks, enough,
half moist strips of clouds
secretly scurried about
in the eyes of my Bappa
that were never moist in pleasure or pain!

During transplantation season
if she planted with her finger tips
a single paddy sapling, enough,
it extended like Palamur banyan tree----
yet, my Bappa remained
like gleanings of corn!

Even the sun may have setting hours,
for my Bappa
with her back bone bent as a bow
respite was unknown!

Like caste discrimination suddenly visible
in the KalyanaM of village deity,
or in the mid day meal ritual of school children,
from the worn out silver anklets of my Bappa
lac appeared nervously!

For my Bappa----
who knew only lifting loads through out life
quintal bags in the rice mills
posed no problem!

I regret why my Bappa
who could shred coir in coconut shop
keeping the fruit on her thigh
was not born at KaramcheDu !

I wonder why my Bappa …
who kept guard along the river bund ,
with a lantern in hand
and some chilly powder in her chengu**,
whenever there were clashes with the village,
was not born at Tsunduru !

Unlike other times,
my Bappa’s presence is
all the more needed now!!

**** ***** **** ***** ****
* Bappa : In some coastal districts of Andhra Pradesh father’s
elder sister is affectionately called Bappa by children in some
communities.{Babu(=father)+Appa(=elder sister)}

**chengu: Free end of a sari used to tie or keep some material, as in rural areas.

1.KaraMcheDu \ Places where dalits were attacked and killed.
2.Tsunduru /

(Translated from Telugu by Dr T.S.Chandra Mouli & B.B.Sarojoni,

ass="tip">
  ( Sikhamani )

A Telugu Poem by ASHA RAJU.

 CELEBRATION.


Just now,
a little earlier,
may be an hour ago ----
after so many days
this universe is inundated…

My book lifeless on footpaths
with fluttering pages---
just now getting down from auto rickshaw
I am drenched deliciously.
Covering head with my work
as I cross the road
my book gets wet like a bird’s wing
body fuming like a furnace
at once turns into an eternal spring.
an ancient dried up perennial river
swells on my tongue, swirling seductively.
Flock of birds on ‘D’ day
sand storms rising in daylight
my moistened eyes, flow ---
flowering creepers bedeck desert sands.
Puddles on roads
decade long dreams !
longing of the crowd!

A wish ---
taking off shoes, shirt, shorts
ardent desire to roll on the road ,
small pleasure!
For the raindrop to descend
such a long wait!
A lady we encountered on the road…
though not as lovely as the rain
like moist leaf
she had the charm of a rain drop
not to wet her pleated sari, she lifts it a bit,
water prostrated and cleansed her feet,
time chugs along:
but a clock doesn’t age,
with parched throat
keeps recording history----
In slushy by lanes
children play cricket
thoroughly drenched are they
the game itself is bathing in rain
if the game is interrupted
pouring rain may also……their apprehension.

Just like rain drops are they!
I composed a poem with water
when published have a look at it , please,
every one looks fully drenched
it pours all over!

**** **** ****

{Translated from Telugu by T.S.Chandra Mouli & B. B. Sarojini from the volume:
UtsawaM(Jan.2005); poem titled UtsawaM (P.No 69—71)}


( ASHA RAJU.)

  K. Siva Reddy's Telugu Poems

 EVERYTHING


Everything keeps on moving
like the supertinent layer of water gently ,or gushing
as never earlier the spirit shudders
on the banks of dawn’s lake
breeze, bluish blue like me, flutters
as innumerable silken drapes
I cannot touch
I can notice everything that moves before me
perhaps, with the ecstasy of kisses from
skin bounded gentle breeze I can access
the recess from the tedium of tireless traveling,
the restlessness of incessant agitation on the move only
how does the location matter? Dynamism is in its nature
grief governed bleeding stream its creation
that also with movement only.

***********

(translated by T.S.Chandra Mouli and B.B.Sarojini form Telugu book Varsham ! Varsham! August,1999, published by Jhary Poetry Cicle,16-2-740/75/40,V.K.Dhage Nagar,Hyderabad-500660,poem titled Prathiidii,pp—71)

(More Poems by  K.Siva Reddy)

 A  Poem by SONY DALIA
 

Kopparthy’s Telugu Poems

 NUCLEAR FISSION!


Not a girl friend , a doting wife is needed….
not a lover boy, an affectionate husband is in demand …
not a home, a family is the most desired one!

Whether a single line is an extension or a contraction
we cannot say,
Whether solitary life is liberty or servility,
we cannot decide.
Freedom alone enslaving man
tantamount to
life being subjugated by liberty!

Adversary is not the family,
it is patriarchy.

Her lonely life benefits him exclusively,
with utmost sophistication relieves him
of paternal responsibility,
without a family also, his domination prevails!

Family, a small world….
universe, a large family…
the summombonum of…
‘Vasudhaiva Kutumbam’ , doesn’t mean
turning all women into wives,
making all men husbands.

Advancing on the globe is
covering half the distance only,
stepping beyond hastens
approaching the starter blocks!

Enemy is not the family,
male imperialism.

Family is like an atom,
just as all atoms combine to make an object
all families unite to make a society…
splitting a family is splitting an atom only….
till now splitting atoms are confined to the west
now, here too experiments of atomic power started!

A time has come
as all allude
we should save the next century from nuclear fission!

*********
(Translated from Telugu by Dr T.S.Chandra Mouli and
B.B.Sarojini from the book Vishaada MoohanaM,
June, 2003, poem titled ANu VichchinaM,pp—47-48)

(Kopparthi)

---

A Telugu poem by Dr Penna Siva Rama Krishna.


 MUTE PROCLAMATION!


Aloft seas lightless earthen lamps drift
invisible illuminated dwellings extend invitation
cleaving dark background
two blazing cold flames keep traversing among us
trudging with resonant bells on walking stick,
the very touch turns our miniscule world into
gongs of explosive universe for him.

Planetary orbits are measured by
inquisitive eyes
galaxies keep hanging at the tip of our gaze.
We search for ever fresh vision to enjoy
a holiday in dream worlds of rainbow colours
where the universe is an open book.
For his third eye--
the walking stick with bells--
distances become unbearably heavy,
hands flailing in vacuum
encounter billions of light years,
our hands indifferently point the path.
As all the faculties draw curtains,
when all tongues turn into mute proclamation
scenic beauty transforms into a symphony and sensation
entire body becomes a receptacle of music
the whole system turns into two hands to grab,
folded eyes transform into wingless butterflies
dissolving into a monochromatic dream ,
All the oceans of tears carrying earthen lamps
remain unfamiliar to us!

When all lingoes turn into mute proclamation
when all sharp edges turn into
brilliant lamps on finger tips
your eyes transform into ships with puffed sails,
branches of spring tide trees,
awaiting the infinite sparkling scenic sky
moments of immortality!
Helen Keller!….. Helen Keller!….
if you are blind
the sun and the moon
are visionless pupils,
the earth
a frozen drop of tears! !

(Translated by Dr T.S.Chandra Mouli and B.B.Sarojini from Telugu book
Alala PaDawala Miida, written by Dr Penna Siva Rama Krishna,poem titled
Bhaashalannii Mouna Ghooshaleina WeeLa,pp32—33)


 (Dr. Penna Siva Ramakrishna: )

A poem by  DR. C. Narayana Reddy

 EQUILIBRIUM

How to endure
this kind of drastic silence?
It almost resembles death
that is spread over the entire space as a carpet.


The leaves that flutter
and soothe my mind quite often
almost ceased to function now,
Who has stifled their voices?


The birds that always talk to me
In their twittering language
are not seen any where now;
Who choked their ring tones?


Do you want me to be static
in this stoic silence and be mute.

My breath will revolt against these deeds
I have not yet transformed as a meditating sage
I am still a poet.

I know perfectly
how to use words
that enchant and invigorate the charm
Of the surroundings!

I am always decrying the blaring sounds
that harm the acoustics,,
but not desired this stowing silence.

I want to preserve the vibrations
that emanate from streams of water
when a pebble is thrown!

Whether it is a form or a sound--
when it moves on in the right direction
cordial chords get ecstatic!

When we equipoise
sound or silence
and manage them perfectly
life stakes move forward in unison!

**** ***** ***** ****

{Translated from Telugu by Supani.The poem titled SarithuukaM
was published in Pathrika, a monthly magazine,(Nov.2005).}


  ( DR. C. Narayana Reddy )

A Telugu poem by SALEEM.

 COLOURS.


To dissect darkness
turning itself
into a sabre of light,
glow worm---
my model!

Why do you
lament to embrace blackness?
Life is a fusion of seven divergent colours---
a butterfly hopping daily across
dainty rose gardens----
darkness tantamounts to absence of any colour!

Rain of rubies
gliding from sinking sun rays----
azure dyed
clear swimming pool sky----
stretching from green leaf tips
scatter smiles of trees---
bewitching, bewildering myriad colours…..
Encircled python of darkness
suffers thousand deaths
encountering a ray of light----

You don’t know ----
you are a live ember
eyes bejewelled torches,
you a luminous lanky tower!

Blooming all over life
lustrous rainbow splendour….
shattered by arrows of aspirations
disappears devouring darkness.
Behold , now, dear
manifold hues….
life is not just a stretch of rainbow shades,
but a bouquet of myriad colours!
*** *** *** ***

{Translated from Telugu by T. S. Chandra Mouli & B.B.Sarojini from the volume:
Aakulu Raalee DrusyaM(Aug.2005). Poem titled Rangulu (P.5-8)}

( Saleem )

(More poem by G S P RAO)