3 Savita Singh Translations by Medha Singh

By and | 15 September 2022


In Karnataka’s dark village,
a family prepares
to close the game
of life.

A mat is splayed out
on the ground & poison
mixed in a bowl.

Seating the kids in a corner
their mother caresses them,
watching her universe
for the last time. Wraps her sari
anew, settling her pallu;
and in front of itself,
a storm stilled: the farmhand.

They gaze at each other
man and woman, their silent eyes,
and a yawl explodes
in the throat
of the farmer
buries itself that very
moment. An emptiness
looking their way
and them at it. Neither
fears the other.

A pall of silence spreads
through the air,
the bodies lie, aquiver.

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