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 Aug 2016
Kuzhur Wilson
Looking through the window
A maadatha
A kulakozhi

You narrate

The maadatha
In the silhouette of
The kulakozhi

The kulakozhi is swift
The maadatha callow
Unable to reach
Anywhere near

The kulakozhi flees
The maadatha

Poor maadatha
You narrate.
How unkind
Can a kulakozhi get?

Tell tales
And then
I saw the picture
In the window square

In my picture
It was the maadatha
Who flew away

Must have had
Enormous wings!

The guileless Kulakozhi

There it is
Hiding behind that wild bush

Beside the window
Behind the bush here

Janus faced
With wings
And without.

Translation :  Shyma . P
 Aug 2016
Kuzhur Wilson
Dear source of my happiness

When I write to you
I forget words
I forget
I am a poet
Once again

Like a farmer
Who wishes to plough
The whole land
But doesn’t
Even an acre
Who doesn’t finish
Sowing seeds
Even in a cent
Like the many seeds
That don’t sprout

Dear source of my happiness

When I write to you
I fail
More miserably
Than that farmer

Dear source of my happiness

When I write to you
I require
The ink of a thousand seas
But my seeds of blue
Fall astray
Even in a single page

How many of them will sprout

Even my greeting
In this poem
“The source of my happiness”
Is stolen
My prayers in childhood
To the Holy mother

Dear source of my happiness

When I write to you
Dear source of my sorrow.

Translation :  Shyma . P
 Jul 2016
Kuzhur Wilson
The past
Arrives with the fragrance of leaves
The previous life
The lives before
I’ve maintained personal relationships
With trees

A tree
Had a hollow
And in the hollow
Was a bird
Who had
A boy friend

I remember
Feeding them
Wheat grains

Why say this now
You wonder?
Had wanted to tell this
To you
All along
But, forgot

A bird
Was squawking endlessly
From a nearby tree
When you had called me
For the first time

It was the same bird
Which died
Even after
I fed it
Wheat grains

All my previous lives
I had inquired to the leaves
A thousand times
About that lone bird

Will say tomorrow
Will say tomorrow
The birds
Teased me

I was distressed
By that bird’s cries
That had interrupted
Your talk.

Had forgotten
To share that then.

Translation :  Shyma . P
 May 2016
Kuzhur Wilson
You were talking
About a girl
She laughed
Clinking like anklets
At times
Grew dull
Like an overcast sky
Other times

I strained my ears
To stencil her in me
When a solitary pigeon coos
From the office wall

Am out in the sun
Listening to you
And through you
At times
You become her
And she, you
There is a you
Who laughs like glass bangles
There is a you
Who is silent
Like a broken bangle
Myriad yous.

We become alone
When we love

I have stood

The sun
Abandonment s


I can see that girl
That tree shade
Her solitary sobs
That embankment
Her solo conversations
That desolate stone
Her lonely laughter

What is more agonizing
On this earth
Than to be in love.

Translation :  Shyma P
 Apr 2016
Kuzhur Wilson
Danced yesterday
After a long time

From the toes
Of an Adiyathi  
All of a sudden
Your toes
In front of me

Your toes
That I wet
My saliva

My mind dances
Hands and legs
Join eventually

By and by

Goes berserk  
With fits of frenzy

Are driven to dance
On the floor

On a leg
On a toe
That utmost moment
Thought about you
That toe
Your toe
Appeared before me

That I danced
On your toes yesterday

Today my body aches

I want to feed on your toes
And fall asleep

Translation  : Shyma P
 Apr 2016
Kuzhur Wilson
Was driving
To shivaraathri manappuram [1]
With idichakkas [2]
To meet you
One day.

To a vow made one life
The two chakka dumpkins
Their smug demeanor
Drove me to chuckles.
Like guys  
On a global tour  
Waved buddies bubye
Babbled on
To the jackfruit trees
On the boulevard
Singing “salaama salaama…”
The jackfruit rap
I was beside myself
With laughter.
The exertion
Exhausted my cheeks
I stopped near a shop
For a cigarette
Saw there,
Two packets
Of fried chakka chips
Among other snacks.
My chakka dumpkins
For you
Overwhelmed them
They broke into tears
They recalled
Their haughty ride
In a car once
Singing salama
A festering past
That throbbed with
The agony  
Of getting torn to shreds
Of getting fried crisp
In boiling oil.
The chakka dumpkins
Were dumbstruck
They stopped singing
And began to cry
Looking upon their sisters
Sister, you have forgotten me!
An utterance from Khasak
Muffled the scene.
Sad at their plight
I held them close
My chakka dumpkins
For you
Forget it honey
Forget it dear
I patted them
Trying to stop their tears.
The chakka fries
And my darlings
Continued weeping
And wailing.
I smoked a cigarette
Went to them
And whispered in their ears
That I am consigning them
To you.
They laughed innocently
Showing their gums
They bid adieu to
The sisters
They would meet next life
I felt like
And crying.
And crying
I sang

Salama, salama

Translation  : Shyma P
[1] The sandy landscape in Aluva, whre Sivarathri is popularly celebrated at the Siva temple on the banks of Periyar River and this place is called the Aluva Manal Puram (land with sand)

[2] Unripe jackfruit used to make Kerala cuisines.
 Feb 2016
Kuzhur Wilson
It might
Rain today

Can’t be sure
About the clouds
Fecund wanderings

It might rain
Lightning and thunder are certain

Be afraid
Or cry along

Just think that
You are watching
Of some life

Just think that
The crows
Of that life
Had come
To see me
Yesterday at dusk

Just think that
One of those crows
Have built its nest
In this life of mine too.

trans : Shyama P
 Feb 2016
Kuzhur Wilson
I was returning
Along the walkway
Through the paddy field
All set for reaping.

As usual
It was dusk
You know
I don’t go
To the paddy field
Except in the evenings

An evening
Of a day
Suffused with
Sighs, monotony
And unpleasant jobs.

In the middle of
The daily
Skyward incantations
“Whom do I have
To claim as my own”
Got bored
Thinking about
The number of times
I have been doing the same.

You know
That boredom
Makes me miserable

That ripened paddy field
I lighted yet another cigarette

For a moment
Had plans
To set
The crowless
Heaps of hay
On fire

A cigarette
Resembling a bundle of hay

You walk
In front of me

Trance like
Unaware of paddy stalks
Chatting to you
Or the two homebound mynahs
Passing comments at you

A leaf of the coconut tree
Sang a song
About you

You weren’t listening
Or seeing anything

You were the swiftness
Of a deer
From one life to another

You were walking
The world expelled
Out of you.

Amidst the tenth puff
In the interval of a sigh
I saw you approaching me
You didn’t talk to me
Or show signs of seeing me
You are about to pass me now
And quite unlike you
You had your hair, ******* and face draped
By a shawl
No, that shawl
Was not violet in color

I hadn’t seen
Such a
And distressed walk
In any of my
Past lives

I realized that
You were crying
While walking
I saw
The seeds of your tears
Fall and germinate
In the walkway of the field
I feared
It would grow
Into a forest

You are leaving
Without a backward glance

My melancholy
Where did you go
Leaving me
All alone?

translator  : Shyma P
 Feb 2016
Kuzhur Wilson
Today is the day I’ll see you
Today is the day you’ll see me
Today is the day we’ll meet

How I see you
Is not how you see me
How you see me
Is not how I see you

How I see you
Is not how you see you
How you see me
Is not how I see me

I want to see you
And you, me
Some time, some day

Leave that

Have been waiting fourteen years  
Yet, how arduous it is
To push through
These one or two hours!

translator  : Shyma P
 Jan 2016
Kuzhur Wilson

This is the slogan
I chose
And imploring life
Many times
Many ways
No, cannot
Don’t, don’t expect me
Don’t go, don’t do
Don’t see, don’t hear
Don’t talk, leave me alone

Its difficult
To reckon
How often
Let it be
Fists inside

A girl friend
Had taught me so
Last life
Seeing me weep relentlessly

In this life too
You are resounding it

Let it be

Does it mean that
I be alone again?
I be a beggar
Next life too?
That I be

Why did you
Steal my slogan

If you had asked
I would have lend it to you
For a couple of days.

translator  : Shyma P
 Jan 2016
Kuzhur Wilson
You say that
I am proud

Yes, I am proud
And I’ll continue being proud
As long as you love me

If one doesn’t feel proud
Even after being aroused
By your love
There’ll be
Something wrong
With that person.

trans : Shyma P
 Jan 2016
Kuzhur Wilson
Your father
Is ordering
Gold bangles  
For you

You ought to be glad

The glimmer
In that eyes
When you were born
While putting those
Tiny bangles on you
For the first time
Are inimitable

I feel envious
Of that bangle
And that world of yours
Without me.

I declare war
With your father
For no reason

Although certain
That I would disappoint as usual
I too had bought
A karivala
In the third life itself
Sure that you would come

I’ll wear
On your hand
On the morning
The fourteenth life

I have preserved the karivala
In saline water
Lest it
Gets blighted

I deserve the honor
Of being the first poet
To have preserved a black bangle
Meant for his girl friend
In saline water.

trans : Shyma  p
Glass bangle, black in colour.
 Jan 2016
Kuzhur Wilson
Is like
An answer sheet
Handed over to the examiner

Is a helplessness
That cannot be edited

I am helpless
No matter
What you think about me

I am a stone
That has hauled itself
Through muddled waters for long

You might assume that
I am
A garden pebble

Be careful

If you are hurt
I’ll suffer.

translator : Shyma P
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