A Few Gems Of Ismail


The Ageing – house


Our house has become old and decrepit

We are thinking of taking it apart

And remake it.

I too have become old and decrepit.

How nice if someone could

Take me apart and

Rebuild afresh.




The moon, like the moon,

Is crystal bright.

Doesn’t dissolve in the running waters.

The canal flows serenely

Mindful of the reflections it carries.

The wind murmurs softly

In its wind-language

Refuses to carry ear-piercing film songs.

The sky, like the sky,

Smiles its distant smile.

How crystal clear

Is this night!

Even common words

Shine crystal hard.

The moon!

The canal!

The wind!

The sky!


After burying the Sun


After burying the sun

The dusk washes off itself in the canal

And then departs.

When we return home,

My wife kindles the hearth

And resurrects the sun.

All through the night

He sleeps warmly in my stomach,

And the next day rises resplendently in the east.





The train enters

Evening’s bloody wound.

In the train I sit drenched

In the blood of ruminations

The world is a bloody wound.

The probe deep down into the dregs and roots

Of this bloody mess.

The blood crusted;

And the world turned black.

The lights come on in the compartment

And switched off the outside world.

When I looked outside

I found myself in the windowpane.

Now  I understand after all these years

That I am fated-to travel always with myself.


To My Mother

Northeast monsoon is blowing across the land;

The sky is overcast with rolling clouds;

An urgent hurricane combs up the sea-head;

Now, you come to my mind, mother,

Combing your vary hair,

Your hand, a while sail

Riding the turbulent waves,

And I a one-legged lonely stork

Looking on from the distant shore.

In the howling wind, the coconut

Stands with disheveled head;

You are that coconut tree, mother,

Swaying on the shores of a stormy sea.

And I, a lonely coconut dropped and swept away to a distant island.

I carried way a part of your earth and

A part of your sky along with me.

Through the dark tresses of the sea part us,

We both sway to the same monsoon winds.

Do you remember, mother

You chided me once

When  I disheveled your hair –do?

*** *** **

Transalated by Srinivas Prasad Mullapudi

Sreenivasa Prasad Mullapudi

Sreenivasa Prasad Mullapudi.
Mullapudi Srinivasa Prasad ia now working as Principal of the Degree college, Tanuku and lives in Tanuku. He was born and brought up in Machilipatna in 1959. Sudied in Andhra Loyaola college, Vijayawada and then in CIEFL, Hyderabad. Published short stories and poetry in Telugu. Translated several other Telugu poets too.

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