Selective Amnesia

The crow’s feather

In the raven’s black wings, oh shepherd, I see your face.
In the rustling trees, oh shepherd, I see your complexion.
The winds from far, oh shepherd, bring me your music.
But, oh shepherd, Touching you is like touching fire.
—
In the wings of a crow, Nandalala
I can see but your dark skin tone.
The green trees, Nandalala
Tell me of nothing but your complexion.
Every sound, every whisper, every beat, Nandala
reminds me of the music in you.
But my greatest joy is playing with fire, Nandalala
for then, I am touching you.

Posted by Chandrachoodan Gopalakrishnan on January 18th, 2009 | Filed in General/Unclassified |

3 Responses to “The crow’s feather”

Chenthil Says:
January 19th, 2009 at 1:32 pm
The first attempt is better. There is no But in the fourth line of the original. Also, touching the fire is like touching you, not the other way around.
Andy Says:
January 22nd, 2009 at 5:51 pm
Kakai chiraginilae nandalala….
Sudhamshu Says:
January 24th, 2009 at 3:21 pm
Bitten by the poetic bug, you too? Much as many of us other hopeless romantics out on Twitter. But, you, your thoughts & words are on a level much higher than any of us! We take inspiration!