I see you becoming
as scarce for me as water

Too scarce for the roots of my crop
Too scarce for my birds to bathe in
Too scarce for my thirst­ing traveller
Too scarce for my dough-knead­ing woman
My ox arrives at your lake
and looks around with des­o­late eyes

I see all of this in your demeanour

I see you becom­ing scarce for me
the way water becomes more and more scarce

And like drought strick­en land
I can­not even ask
Why is this happening?
Water, why are you doing this to me?

When there is no water
who can the riv­er speak to?
Like that riv­er I too
am in com­mu­nion with myself

And like the weed
spread­ing far across the dry riverbed
some­where in me there is still
the green mem­o­ry of you

 

TRANSLATED FROM THE HINDI BY RAHUL SONI

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