Translation of Silence


It was getting late
I must go somewhere
It would not matter where…
But to be with him.
This is not a passion’s game,
but a silent storm.
I descended the downward journey
Immeasurable distance, miles beyond extremity,
beyond the skies, to ultimate destiny. Cold winds blew withered leaves,
Stripped woods bent their boughs.
The moon hides her hopes,
Can’t see any maple blooming,
Nor my willows greening.
But the whole forest falling, fading with the storm.
Is it not terrible?
Think of being lonely.
Lonely forever and ever.
A shrine lamp glowing dim in my heart, it stirred a pain.
Through stripped poplar, maple and daffodils, I reached…
Is it a road house or a deserted castle,
Is it not enough to tempt a lonely traveller?
It was one or two decades ago,
we sat under those writhing stars in distress
and long night turned into day…
I know not what path I chose,
to find you at any desolate place
but I rushed to my destiny!
When I pushed gently at the door,
As it had not been fastened,
Everything was gray with dust,
Thickly spun over with cobwebs.
I drew those curtains apart,
the Stranger faced,
His skin has changed,
though Memories clouded in his eyes
It began raining in the inn
Scraping off leaves along the floor..
We looked at each other and that was all.
when he smiled, he revealed his broken charm,
His eyes interpreted truth.
He cannot seal his thoughts to himself and escape into sleep
as my soul took refuge in him
His lips translated the silence…

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About Rekha Moothedath

I'm a teacher by profession, hailing from Calicut, south-west coast of India. I was brought up in a huge joint family, a home in lush greenery and a mile away from the sea shore. Being married to a defense personnel, has enabled me to travel widely within India and once made me write a poem on the great Andaman islands. I did my post graduation in History and I do research papers and have published a paper on medieval Indian feudal society, in the International History Congress. Sometime in the late nineties initiating a life time love with Latin American poetry I mustered up all my passions in writing. Though my head fought battles and spoke peace, poetry was always a deeply embedded part of my soul and I was enamored of her beauty and traveled through the emotions of tempest and silence and overcame the desolation.

6 thoughts on “Translation of Silence

  1. shamsher

    Translation of silence is an answer to one’s own quest to some instincts, intuitive progression . The flow and picturesque is simply awesome . Simply brilliant composition

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