Original Poem

Explanation / Paraphrase

I

Twilight, I stroll through stubble fields / clouds lift, the hope of a mountain.

At dusk, the poet walks through harvested fields; clouds rise, revealing a mountain that brings hope.

What was distinct turns to mist, / what was fitful burns the heart.

Clear things blur into mist; fleeting memories or feelings cause deep pain.

When I dream of my tribe gathering / by the red soil of the Pamba River

She recalls her people (ancestral tribe) gathering on the fertile red soil by Kerala’s Pamba River, a place of roots and belonging.

I feel my writing hand split at the wrist. / Dark tribute or punishment, who can tell?

She imagines her hand breaking apart — symbolizing the pain and sacrifice of writing. It could be seen as either an offering or a cruel punishment.

You kiss the stump and where the wrist / Bone was, you set the stalk of a lotus.

Someone (a loved one, or symbolic muse) heals her brokenness by placing a lotus where the wound was — turning pain into beauty.

There is a blue lotus in my grandmother’s garden, / its petals whirl in moonlight like this mountain.

The image of the blue lotus in her grandmother’s garden symbolizes purity, memory, and spiritual renewal, glowing under moonlight like the mountain itself.

II

An altar, a stone cracked down the spine, / a shelter, a hovel of straw and sperm

She imagines a sacred altar and a poor hut, fragile yet alive, built of basic human elements (straw and life-giving seed).

out of which rise a man and a woman

From this hut emerge a man and a woman — figures of origin or ancestry.

and one is a ghost though I cannot tell which

One of them feels ghostly, uncertain whether it is the man or woman — suggesting memory, loss, or disconnection.

for the sharpness between them scents / even the orchids, a sharing of things

The tension or pain between them is so strong that it affects even the orchids, symbolic of fragile beauty.

invisible till the mountain fetches / itself out of water out of ice out of sand

The mountain reappears (rebirth from natural elements), revealing hidden truths.

and they each take tiny morsels / of the mountain and set it on banana leaves

They symbolically eat small pieces of the mountain (like a sacred offering placed on banana leaves).

and as if it were a feast of saints / they cry out to their dead and are satisfied.

It becomes like a holy ritual meal, where they call out to ancestors and feel spiritually fulfilled.

III

I have climbed the mountain and cleared / away the sand and ice using first my bare hands / then a small knife.

The poet climbs the mountain and works hard, scraping away layers (sand, ice) with effort and tools — symbolizing uncovering history.

Underneath I found / the sign of the four-cornered world, gammadion,

She discovers the gammadion (swastika), an ancient cross-like sign representing migration and cycles of life.

which stands for migration, for the scattering / of the people.

It symbolizes diaspora — people being dispersed across lands.

The desolation of the mothers / singing in their rock houses becomes us,

She identifies with mothers grieving in caves or rock houses — their sorrow is collective.

so too the child at the cliff’s edge / catching a cloud in her palm

Also the innocence of a child who tries to hold a cloud in her hand — fragile hope amidst hardship.

as stocks of blood are gathered on the plain, / spread into sheaves, a circlet for bones

Images of violence and sacrifice — blood collected like harvested crops, forming garlands of bones.

and flint burns and the mountain resurrects itself.

Despite destruction, the mountain rises again, symbolizing resilience and renewal.

IV

Tribe, tribute, tribulation: / to purify the tongue and its broken skin / I am learning the language again,

She reflects on community, sacrifice, and suffering. To heal herself, she begins learning her mother tongue anew — reclaiming identity.

a new speech for a new tribe.

She seeks a language that fits her scattered people today.

How did I reach this nervous empire, / sharp store of sense?

She questions how she ended up in a modern, restless world filled with excess knowledge.

Donner un sens plus pur etc. etc. / does not work so well anymore, / nor calme bloc ici-bas.

She critiques French poet Mallarmé’s lines (“to give a purer meaning…”). For her, these ideals no longer resonate.

Blunt metals blossom. / Children barter small arms.

Instead, violence and war flourish — even children trade weapons.

Ground rules are abolished. / The earth has no capitals.

Old orders collapse; there is no central authority anymore.

In my distinct notebooks / I write things of this sort.

She documents her reflections in notebooks, her private space.

Monsoon clouds from the shore / near my grandmother’s house / float through my lines.

Yet her writing is nourished by memory — monsoon clouds from her grandmother’s land drift into her poems.

I take comfort in sentences. / “Who cares what you write?” / someone cries.

She finds solace in writing, but also faces doubt and dismissal from an unseen critic.

A hoarse voice, I cannot see the face. / He smells like a household ghost.

The critic feels like a haunting, unseen household spirit.

There can be no concord between us.

She knows she cannot reconcile with this ghostly doubt.

I search out a bald rock between two trees, / ash trees on the riverbank / on an island where towers blazed.

She finds a solitary place of reflection — a symbolic site of survival amid destruction.

This is my short / incantation, / my long way home.

Writing is both a prayer and a long path back to identity.

William, Rabindranath, Czeslaw, / Mirabai, Anna, Adrienne / reach out your hands to me.

She invokes great poets — William (Wordsworth), Rabindranath (Tagore), Czeslaw (Milosz), Mirabai, Anna (Akhmatova), Adrienne (Rich) — as guides and companions.

Now stones have tongues. / Sibilant scattering, / stormy grace!

The world itself speaks; there is a chorus of voices, chaotic yet filled with grace.

Original Poem

Explanation / Paraphrase with Notes

I

Twilight, I stroll through stubble fields / clouds lift, the hope of a mountain.

At dusk, the poet walks through harvested fields. Clouds rise, revealing the mountain, which becomes a symbol of hope. 🔹 Imagery: “stubble fields” and “clouds lift” create a visual landscape. 🔹 Symbol: Mountain = endurance, identity, belonging.

What was distinct turns to mist, / what was fitful burns the heart.

What was once clear becomes hazy; fleeting or uncertain memories cause emotional pain. 🔹 Metaphor: “mist” = confusion, fading memory. 🔹 Alliteration: “fitful… burns the heart” emphasizes inner struggle.

When I dream of my tribe gathering / by the red soil of the Pamba River

She recalls her ancestral community gathering by Kerala’s Pamba River. 🔹 Cultural Note: The Pamba River is sacred in Kerala, linked to fertility and rituals. 🔹 Symbol: “red soil” = roots, tradition, homeland.

I feel my writing hand split at the wrist. / Dark tribute or punishment, who can tell?

She imagines her hand breaking — symbol of the suffering of a writer. Is it sacrifice (tribute) or punishment? 🔹 Metaphor: Broken wrist = pain of creativity/exile. 🔹 Tone: Ambiguous, tragic.

You kiss the stump and where the wrist / Bone was, you set the stalk of a lotus.

A healing act occurs: a lotus stalk is set in place of her wound — turning pain into beauty. 🔹 Symbol: Lotus = rebirth, purity, spiritual transformation.

There is a blue lotus in my grandmother’s garden, / its petals whirl in moonlight like this mountain.

The memory of her grandmother’s garden holds a mystical blue lotus glowing in moonlight, compared to the mountain’s beauty. 🔹 Simile: Petals whirl like the mountain. 🔹 Symbol: Grandmother’s garden = cultural memory and roots.

II

An altar, a stone cracked down the spine, / a shelter, a hovel of straw and sperm

She envisions both sacred and ordinary spaces: a cracked altar and a humble hut built of human seed and straw. 🔹 Juxtaposition: sacred (altar) vs. profane (hovel). 🔹 Symbol: Creation and fragility of life.

out of which rise a man and a woman

A man and a woman emerge — primal figures of ancestry.

and one is a ghost though I cannot tell which

One seems ghostlike, symbolizing memory, loss, or absence. 🔹 Ambiguity: Suggests fragmentation of identity.

for the sharpness between them scents / even the orchids, a sharing of things

Their tension affects everything, even orchids. 🔹 Personification: Orchids “scented” with tension. 🔹 Symbol: Orchids = fragile beauty corrupted by discord.

invisible till the mountain fetches / itself out of water out of ice out of sand

The mountain emerges from natural elements — symbolizing rebirth and continuity.

and they each take tiny morsels / of the mountain and set it on banana leaves

They symbolically eat the mountain — a ritual act. 🔹 Cultural Note: Food on banana leaves = South Indian tradition.

and as if it were a feast of saints / they cry out to their dead and are satisfied.

They treat it as sacred communion, calling ancestors, and feel fulfilled. 🔹 Theme: Memory, ancestry, ritual.

III

I have climbed the mountain and cleared / away the sand and ice using first my bare hands / then a small knife.

She climbs the mountain, removing layers (sand, ice) with effort — uncovering buried truths. 🔹 Symbol: Excavation = rediscovering history and identity.

Underneath I found / the sign of the four-cornered world, gammadion,

She uncovers the gammadion (swastika), an ancient sign of life cycles and migration.

which stands for migration, for the scattering / of the people.

It represents diaspora — displacement of communities.

The desolation of the mothers / singing in their rock houses becomes us,

She inherits the sorrow of mothers mourning in caves. 🔹 Theme: Collective suffering.

so too the child at the cliff’s edge / catching a cloud in her palm

Innocence persists — a child attempts to hold a cloud, symbolic of fragile hope.

as stocks of blood are gathered on the plain, / spread into sheaves, a circlet for bones

Images of war and sacrifice: blood harvested like crops, bones woven into garlands. 🔹 Imagery: Violent, agricultural metaphor.

and flint burns and the mountain resurrects itself.

Despite destruction, the mountain rises again — resilience of people and culture.

IV

Tribe, tribute, tribulation: / to purify the tongue and its broken skin / I am learning the language again,

She connects tribe, offering, and suffering. To heal, she relearns her ancestral tongue. 🔹 Theme: Language = recovery of identity.

a new speech for a new tribe.

She envisions a language for her displaced people.

How did I reach this nervous empire, / sharp store of sense?

She wonders how she ended up in a modern, anxious world of excess.

Donner un sens plus pur etc. etc. / does not work so well anymore, / nor calme bloc ici-bas.

French poet Mallarmé’s idea of “a purer meaning” no longer resonates; European ideals seem insufficient.

Blunt metals blossom. / Children barter small arms.

Instead, violence and war flourish — children trade weapons. 🔹 Irony: “metals blossom” = war’s growth.

Ground rules are abolished. / The earth has no capitals.

Old structures collapse; there is no central order.

In my distinct notebooks / I write things of this sort.

She records her reflections in her notebooks.

Monsoon clouds from the shore / near my grandmother’s house / float through my lines.

Memories of home (Kerala) seep into her poetry like monsoon clouds. 🔹 Imagery: Monsoon = fertility, memory.

I take comfort in sentences. / “Who cares what you write?” / someone cries.

Writing comforts her, but she faces voices of doubt and dismissal.

A hoarse voice, I cannot see the face. / He smells like a household ghost.

The critic is like a haunting ghost of the past.

There can be no concord between us.

She realizes she cannot reconcile with doubt.

I search out a bald rock between two trees, / ash trees on the riverbank / on an island where towers blazed.

She finds a solitary sacred space — a place of resilience amidst destruction.

This is my short / incantation, / my long way home.

Her poem is both prayer and journey back to identity.

William, Rabindranath, Czeslaw, / Mirabai, Anna, Adrienne / reach out your hands to me.

She invokes great poets (Wordsworth, Tagore, Miłosz, Mirabai, Akhmatova, Rich) for guidance and solidarity.

Now stones have tongues. / Sibilant scattering, / stormy grace!

Even stones now speak — chaotic yet graceful voices rise. 🔹 Personification: “stones have tongues.” 🔹 Alliteration: “sibilant scattering, stormy” emphasizes sound.