Monday, August 15, 2011

Sanskrit poems

Don’t be alert.
This is the way of love.
The wise should choose the left.
“U” turn is impossible.
Every lustrous eye and every heart is a gas station,
but heart will go on fire only after-wards.
Having drunk beauty,
Start journey.
Road has no bumps, no pits, but has the mind.
Go ahead.
There is a deep river,
but don’t swim, take a plunge.
The zig-zag road is the correct one.
Face the rush of race, religion and customs.
Go across them.
Bumps ahead.
They are of social morals.
Go quick raising the speed of mind.
Cross the four squares of social gains and losses by brake-less desires.
Here every turn is risky.
If you have fear of accidents, just quit.
For, accidents are the deft doings of the destiny.
Heaven- one K.M. right.
Hell-1 K.M. left.
Where you really reach is the matter of experience.
Here every step is auspicious.
Why wishes of happy journey?
Don’t leave the road.
Since those who leave it remain hopeless, mad and wretched.
Don’t waste time in reading boards.
Path of love follows no instructions.

Tr. By the poet
Harshdev madhav

1)My leg becomes a donkey
when it kicks foolishly.

2)Cart of own shadow
is pulled by two bullocks named “legs”.

3)My legs run like two arms of clocks!

4)Seven seas are present in eyes
but below the legs
there is only untrustworthy and unsteady sand.

5)In suffering of separation,
I knew that my legs possessed soulless mountain
to make me motionless.

6)My legs are learned.
They have known thorns in my way.

The legs of the blind have eyes
since they recognize their way.

Tr. By the poet
Harshdev madhav

1)Before death
the God said, “Forgive them
since they don’t know what they are doing.”
I will also say before death,
“Please forgive that God
because he doesn’t know what he is doing!”

2)The God has
thousands of hands,
thousands of eyes,
thousand of faces,
but he doesn’t have even a single ear.

3)The ocean named God
has thrown me outside
like a broken boat.

4)In one corner of crematorium,
a new born puppy,
set on the ashes of burnt dead body says,
“bow, bow, bow.”
Which name is this among
the SAHASRANAM of the God’s name?

5)Oh sparrow of astrologer!
Show me envelope
which possesses the future of God.

6)With the support of
lame sticks of arguments, imagination and rumors
the oldest God walks
on the road, which hasn’t milestones.

7)God is the accused one.
He has made the couple of “heron” love-blind
and shown them to the hunter.1

8)Does the God possess
any truth for swearing to revitalize
the Uttara’s dead child named test tube baby
at the moment of terrible world-war.2

1 Reference of ‘Ramayana’: ‘Kraunchvadh episode’ in which Valmiki cursed a hunter because the hunter had killed one heron (kraunch).
2 Reference of ‘Mahabharat’: Shrikrishna gave new life to the dead new born child of uttara by swearing of his own truth.

Tr. By the poet
Harshdev madhav.


Slowly and gently
the drops of first rain fall,
Clay of my body
becomes wet also.
Water enters in hollowness of my loneliness.
The lightening makes its nest
in my darkness of gloominess.
The thunderbolt knocks
on the closed doors of my heart.
At that time,
something becomes open
in me like windows.
I get my lost sky once again.

Tr. By the poet
Harshdev madhav.

1)Living like the water
among sand dunes means
to live in Rome and fight with the Pope.

2)Sand means not sand
but the water without characteristics of water
being looked by the deer as mirage.

3)Oh Shwetketu!*
what was created
first sand or water?

4)The sea breathes in the sand like foetus.

5)Sand is the horrible dream for water.

* Shwetketu is the great sage of Upanishad.

Tr. By poet
Harshdev madhav.

1)We spread our hands
to catch the butterflies and
butterflies run away.
In the same way,
death spreads its hands and
breathes fly away from the body.

2)Seeing me like a broken boat,
the death comes towards
me like the ocean.

3)As whirl wind takes a butterfly
from one flower to other,
in the same way,
the death………

4)The death sings lullaby
and my soul sleeps gently….

5)The death is like a monsoon.
Someone loves it like ‘chatak’,*
someone loves it like a dry field,
someone disgusts it like muddy pig,
someone drags with it like sheep,
someone falls in it like a tree
someone enjoys as the frog of monsoon.

*Chatak=a bird supposed to drink water only from the clouds

Tr. By poet
Harshdev madhav.

1)You saw the sea in the map
and my beloved!
I felt ebb and tide in map.

2)Which ocean is present in blood?
That can’t be discovered
by geographists.

3)Tell me, in this kingdom of sand,
which ocean did attempt to suicide?

4)Oh sea!
Though you have plenty of water,
you don’t get respect
as ‘The treasure of water’.

5)In uterus of broken conch-shell,
unborn sea cries solemnly…..

6)Like an island
imprisoned by ocean,
I live in crowds
but in my loneliness,
so many seas roars in me.

Tr. By poet
Harshdev madhav.

1)Without spectacles,
I can see the dreams,
So, I love the world
like thick glasses of spectacles.

2)The spectacles of Mahatma Gandhi
are not suitable for Nathuram Godse.
The priest of Jerusalem
could not see with the spectacles of Jesus Christ.
Therefore, accidents occur…

3)In this declivity, a stream has fallen –
be wildered stream violently struggles here and there
for touching the land edge.
Has anyone seen its spectacles?

4)In the childhood,
I saw colorful world
through colored spectacles.
Now, the spectacles are plain and colorless,
but the world is colorful as usual.

Tr. By poet
Harshdev madhav.

1)If the clay makes the lips,
then it might have been collected
from the land of moon.

2)Only a person burnt by lovely lips
can know the beauty of the redness.

3)No one knows
how many fishes, pythons, female snakes,
honeys, rose petals, glow-warms
live between two lips!

4)Have you seen the dream of full-moon night?
In early morning,
a little moon light oozes drop wise
becoming the smile on lips.

5)Trembling of lips
gives birth of instability of
seven oceans in me.
Tr. By poet
Harshdev madhav

Monday, July 25, 2011



1) Some birds have come to blossom
  carrying schoolbags,
  some streams eager with enthusiasm to run,
  some young ones of birds to fly.
  Oh experts!  What will you teach them
  with your conventional books?

2) Lamps are ready to be enlightened
  but here there is no oil to wetter them with love.
  The matches are moist.
  The hands are incapable to hold them with care.
  There is no portico to place them safely
  in this windy land.

   3) Oh teachers and guides!
  Do you know that
  different are the speed and motion of
  horses, boats and birds?
  Kinetic equations are available in physics
  but the numbers and numerical
  are not experts themselves.

4)   The lunch box has become empty,
  on the back there is burden of homework.
  In the evening, the black boards have become empty;
  worry to memorize by cramming
  has entered into minds.

   5)Oh great poet Kalidasa!
  You wrote*
  that the tender flower of ‘shirish’
  can bear the leg of wasp,
  it can’t bear that of a bird.
  But here small flowers bear
  the mountains of knowledge and information,
  rocks of figures and facts.

* Reference of Kumarasambhava –canto 5
                                                              Tr. By poet
                                                              Harshdev madhav,

Thursday, April 14, 2011

my new poems

Grandma invites Yamadev
Grandma invites yamadev
arrives always some new disease.
She calls for “Narayana”-the divine doctor
a human doctor gives an injection
laughing cheerfully.
She summons the daughter-in-law
but she doesn’t hear (intentionally)
in kitchen, busy with cooking .
Grandson is looking at TV cartoons.
The dear son is in hurry
to rush to the office.
The maid servant never hears her cries.
Grandma is gladdened
on hearing wailing dogs in the street,
a neighbour passes away the next day.
The grandma wants to go
to “Vaikunth”
but the ambulance
takes and brings her back again.
She starves for food
but someone gives colourful pills and runs away.
She calls for the death
but it sends new agony again.
Now she doesn’t call anyone,
because she has forgotten
the synonyms of life.

Tr. By the poet
Harshdev madhav,

The dark night of “Amavasya”
wound is
the offence
to fetch water from the Brahmin’s well.
The wound on the hand
is the sign of tongs
hit by the mother
for half-baked bread
to show my disability to cook.
The wound on the forehead is
the mark of love to forbidden cast.
The wounds on the back
are the gifts of
mother-in-law’s anger.
The black marks on the thigh
are the memories
of cigarette-burns
inflicted by the drunkard husband.
Wombs of moonlit nights
are desecrated by abortions.
I am the dark night of “Amavasya”
wounds are not seen in darkness,
only deep agony is to be felt.

Tr. By the poet
Harshdev madhav,

In my absence
poor hungry bugs
will run around old empty bed.
For whom will mosquitoes
hum their melodious tunes?
Who will send affectionate smiles
to ugly neighbour girl?
Who will be bitten
by torn old shoes with nails,
to whom will rogue vendor
give stale vegetables?
On whom will the crow of home tree
pass faeces?
On whose wound
the humble bees sit happily.
The shoe-robber
standing outside the temple
will be helpless.
The mouse,
eager to bite old shirts
will do “mahabhinishkraman”
from its hole.

Tr. By the poet
Harshdev madhav,

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Varansi Visit

After a long time, a Sanskrit poet of Gujarat got the chance to resite poem in All India Radio (AIR) Kavi Sammelan. The poetry was translated in 21 languages and broadcast all the stations in India.