Friday, December 1, 2006

Satchithanandanan

Satchithanandanan

The sickle that once reaped the golden corn
Today shall reap the venomous heads that peasents scorn
- Sachithanandanan

2 comments:

  1. I just read a post, about Lal Singh Dil. He wrote this poem, while a Naxalite.

    When the labourer woman
    Roasts her heart on the tawa
    The moon laughs from behind the tree
    The father amuses the younger one
    Making music with bowl and plate
    The older one tinkles the bells
    Tied to his waist
    And he dances
    These songs do not die
    Nor either the dance...

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  2. It is beautiful

    did you read it online ?
    give me a link if possible

    Some revolutionary poems and folk songs lose their charm and rythm when translated to english and must be heard in the local language to fully realise their splendour.

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