Afar, horizon grows dark.
Wind sobs on all sides.
From the dark clouds,
Ready to pour down,
I again identify the form.
In that impenetrable paths of fascination of self knowledge,
Unknown to me,
it pours down like torrential rain,
Like sound of thunder,
Like lightning making clear the directions,
It becomes turbulent.
Tree, uprooted, falls down.
Inside, a bird’s nest.
Also two birds.
Who will be there to write the story about it?
*The last month in the traditional Malayalam calendar.
(“Karkatakam” Poet: P P Sreedharanunni. Translated from Malayalam by Muraly.R)