Abhay K.
(India, 1980)
Abhay Kumar es un poeta y diplomático hindú, autor de dos autobiografías y cinco libros de poemas. Es también editor de CAPITALS – antología de poemas en 185 ciudades capitales del mundo (Bloomsbury). Recibió el Premio Literario SAARC en 2013 y fue nominado al Premio Pushcart en 2013. Sus poemas han aparecido en Poetry Salzburg Review, Asia Literary Review, The Stony Thursday Book 2015, The Missing Slate, The Long Exposure Magazine, The Galway Review, Eastlit, Gargoyle, The Caravan, Indian Literature, entre otras publicaciones, y han sido traducidos al irlandés, ruso, italiano, español, esloveno, portugués, mandarín y nepalí.
Su más reciente libro de poemas La seducción de Delhi (Bloomsbury) es un betseller de poesía. Su Himno de la Tierra ha sido traducido a 28 lenguas. Su llamado a un Himno oficial de la Tierra ha sido elogiado por la UNESCO y es apoyado por Hábitat para la Humanidad. Contribuye como escritor al Proyecto Rutas de la Seda, del Programa Internacional de Escritura de la Universidad de Iowa.
www.abhayk.com
https://www.festivaldepoesiademedellin.org/es/Festival/27/News/AbhayK.html
Brasilia
“Entre los Paralelos 15 y 20,
alrededor de un lago que se formará;
Una gran civilización prosperará,
y aquella será la Tierra Prometida”.
— Don Bosco
Brasilia es blanca en su mayoría
Brasilia es laterita roja
Brasilia es una telaraña diáfana llena de luz
Brasilia es una sarta de perlas brillantes en la noche
Brasilia es una exótica delicia turca
Brasilia es una serpiente enroscada a punto de morder
Brasilia es una aldea haciéndose pasar por ciudad
Brasilia es una expresión en geometría sobrenatural
Brasilia es la ciudad invisible de Italo Calvino
Brasilia es una profecía de Don Bosco
Brasilia es un poema tallado en piedra
Brasilia es una canción de Carlos Drummond de Andrade
Brasilia es un diamante en la corona
Brasilia es un aeroplano gigante sobre la tierra
Brasilia es una aldea Amauri inundada
Brasilia es Clarice Lispector sonámbula sobre el agua
Brasilia es un postre de palma Acai negra
Brasilia es perfección en ladrillo y argamasa
Brasilia es un trozo de pastel de espacio
Brasilia es una isla fantástica en el lago
Brasilia es un meneo nocturno dominicano
Brasilia es la última utopía
Brasilia es la distopía de Sylvia Plath
Brasilia es una ectopia del paisaje
Brasilia es un oasis de pájaros migratorios
Brasilia es las palabras proféticas de un oráculo
Brasilia es una página de Harry Potter
Brasilia es un espejismo movedizo en el desierto
Brasilia es una visión que se ha vuelto pálida, borrosa
Brasilia es un clavo aún por martillar.
Hombres furiosos
I
Somos los hombres furiosos
Somos los hombres confusos
Confrontándonos el uno al otro
Nuestras cabezas llenas de ira.
Cuando nos gritamos uno al otro
Nuestras voces son ruidosas y sin sentido
Como chirriantes jets de combate
En una zona de guerra
La ira no tiene forma, la ira no tiene color,
La ira es una fuerza errada, la ira es un gesto violento;
Quienes han invadido
Con pleno conocimiento hasta el inframundo de la ira
Nada recuerdan en absoluto – están perdidos
Para siempre en el laberinto serpentino
De la ira, aquellos hombres furiosos
Aquellos hombres confusos.
II
No te atrevas a intercambiar miradas con ellos
En el inframundo sombrío de la ira
Ellos están en todas partes
Aquí, allá, los ojos están en todas partes
Como brasas ardientes en frías noches oscuras
Hay un perro aullando
Y su ira
Se dispara arriba
Y más arriba
Como una tormenta en formación.
Déjalos ahondar
En el inframundo
Déjalos ir desnudos
Sin lucir nada
Sin máscaras
En el ring
Como verdaderos luchadores
-Ni más ni menos-
Para su encuentro final
En el inframundo oscuro
III
Esta es la tierra post-nuclear
Esta es la tierra maldita
Aquí sólo quedan pilas
de huesos –calcinados, dispersos
Vaporizados, fundidos
Bajo el resplandor frío de la luna
Es exactamente como esto
En el inframundo oscuro de la ira
Caminando solitario
Luciendo un traje anti-radiactivo
A través de una montaña de huesos
Sin pronunciar una palabra
Sin derramar ni una lágrima.
IV
Estos ojos alguna vez vieron
Ya no
En este valle de lágrimas
En este valle de maldición y muerte
El paraíso perdido
Como murmullos en el viento
Nos miramos el uno al otro
Pero no podemos hablar
A la deriva en este lago opaco
Desde ninguna dirección particular
De repente hay un rayo de luz
Un loto florece en el lago
La sabiduría reaparece
En el oscuro inframundo
Destetando a la ira
De los hombres furiosos.
V
Aquí caminamos en el desierto sombrío
Desierto sombrío, desierto sombrío
Aquí caminamos en el desierto sombrío
Todos los trescientos sesenta y cinco días del año.
Entre las conversaciones
Y la guerra
Entre las promesas
Y la implementación
Gira la diplomacia
Porque nuestro es el oscuro inframundo de la ira
Entre la cooperación
Y la coerción
Entre la maniobra
Y el llamado
Gira la diplomacia
La vida es breve
Entre la Aman ki Asha
Y la viciosa Jihad
Entre las palomas
Y los halcones
Entre la aniquilación
Y la coexistencia
Gira la diplomacia
Porque nuestro es el oscuro inframundo de la ira
Para nosotros es
Elegir vida o muerte
Supervivencia o extinción
Esta es la forma en que el mundo se salva
Esta es la forma en que el mundo se salva
Esta es la forma en que el mundo se salva
No con guerras sino con diplomacia.
Aman ki Asha: Esperanza de paz
Jihad: Guerra religiosa
Immortality
Immortality is what we aspire for
through off-springs
or writing books
through fame
or good work
through worship
or science.
Should we scatter the seeds
into the far reaches of the universe
and put the eggs in other baskets too?
Should we stop the war
in our minds
and build bridges across the continents,
should we care for our only home,
the Earth?
Do we need aliens to unite us
or widows to know war
or AIDS to understand,
how many die in vain?
Life comes so cheap
we let many die
Yet immortality is what we aspire.
A Non-Smoker's Tale
A non-smoker
stuck between two smokers
unwillingly inhales smoke,
his face distorts,head aches
he craves to breathe
fresh air,
gets up and leaves.
Smile flickers on faces of the smokers,
a sign of their apparent victory
over the helpless other
won through smoke.
The violence of the moment,
silent suffering,
violation of the basic rights-
the freedom to breathe
fresh air.
Perhaps unseen,
unnoticed,
perhaps not,
perhaps both seen and noticed
but ignored
for a few dollars more.
Earth Anthem
Our cosmic oasis,cosmic blue pearl,
the most beautiful planet in the universe,
Asia, Australia, Europe,
Africa, America, Antarctica,
Pacific, Atlantic, Arctic or Indian,
all the continents and the oceans of the world
united we stand,
united we stand as flora and fauna
united we stand as species of one earth,
black, brown, white or yellow,
different colours
but one truth,
we are humans
and the earth is our home,
our cosmic oasis,cosmic blue pearl
the most beautiful planet in the universe,
a new millennium beckons us
at its dawn
and we must listen to its clarion call-
'all for one and one for all',
united we sail,
united we unfurl
the blue marble flag,
our cosmic oasis, cosmic blue pearl
the most beautiful planet in the universe.
Hero
A hero is always at odds
with the existing norms
he meets resistance at every step,
Is persecuted
then sacrificed
at the altars of norms.
A hero is for change
for he understands
the weakness of the present,
he brings a new wave
at the expense of his own life
for a tomorrow better than today.
A hero is in you and me,
only if we listen to
our inner voice,
if we do not give into
the temptations of little comforts,
we meet every moment, at every step.
A hero is immortal,
he lives through the ages
because he stands for a cause
while others live in a world of comforts
without raging against a million injustices
and disappear in thin air
without giving a fight.
In Defence Of Lies
Lies all around us
with lies we live,
we know that truth
is wonderful
but without lies
we can’t live.
Truth hurts,
but lies are so smooth,
some call them white
so harmless, so sweet,
they come as euphemisms
saving us from the cruel realities.
Lies are incarnations of the truth,
partial truth,
truth as we know it,
as true as possible or
truth and nothing but the truth
and many more such variations.
While ideal is the truth
lies are practical and good
while truth gets all the accolade,
remember a day passed without lies
they remain underdogs,
snubbed, derided and ignored.
On lies countries are invaded,
on lies empires are built,
on lies leaders get elected,
on lies we fight wars,
on lies millions get killed,
on lies power is built.
Oh unsung, un-praised lies,
let me toast to your glory,
your power, your strength,
your charisma, your aura,
unparallel, unmatched,
alas! truth gets all glory.
Of Drugs And Drug Addicts
When we talk
of drugs and drug addicts,
we never talk of power,
the deadliest drug of all.
Cocaine, heroin or grass,
everyone knows,
are harmful for all,
and we have made them illegal
passing laws
but everyone craves for power,
the deadliest drug of all.
Once tasted,
it surpasses the most addictive of drugs,
making a person mad,
numbing his senses
to the suffering and pain
of the millions
waiting in vain
for their deliverance
through these prophets insane,
power addicts, abusers,
who need help themselves.
Shadow
You are nothing but a shadow
of the man you used to be.
Something unknown hollowed you.
Where are your principles
to struggle against the abuse of power?
To defend the underdog?
Where are your convictions in
liberty, equality and fraternity?
A better future for all?
Where are your ideals
in your words and actions?
To achieve beauty and truth?
Where are those promises
to guard the interests of the voiceless?
On whose behalf you speak?
Where is your courage,
to stand up against the wrongs?
Where is your zeal to serve?
You have sold your soul.
You are nothing but a shadow
of the man you used to be.
The Dark Side Of Life -
The book says-
God created us in his own image,
but sometimes I ponder
life goes on evern after we die,
species become extinct
and new species evolve
what if we are just pawns,
in life’s great game?
Falling in love,
reproducing,
raising children
with great care and
unconditional love
till they grow up
and do the same.
What if life just uses us
to preserve itself and propagate?
It hardly matters
this species or that-
dinosaurs or humans,
it’s just the same,
only forms change.
Life evolves as fast as it can,
adapting to new situations,
we humans vainly believe
we are someone special
in the scheme of creation,
created in God’s own image
to exploit the nature’s bounty,
while failing to see the truth that
the moment there is a change,
we would be discarded
in the dustbin of extinction
as useless garbage
while life will move on
ever evolving
into new species
and man created in God’s own image,
will join the dodos and the dinosaurs.
There is still time
let’s understand life's great game,
it has no favourites and no foes,
it's a ruthless survivor,
and would evolve into forms galore.
The Old Lady
The old lady from the faraway village,
Partly sitting, partly standing
in a visibly uncomfortable pose
holding a bunch of green stems,
Her restless eyes
watch passers-by
with hope,
may be someone will stop,
look at her green wonders
and take them home.
She has travelled from the faraway village
with a bundle of green stems
holding in her hands,
this is all she has got
to make a living,
her day would be made,
if she could sell that green bundle
and go home in peace
with a wonderful gift-
bread for her family.
The Planet Will Be The Same
Air will change,
Water will change,
Climate will change,
People will change,
Country will change,
My friends say,
Hearing the news,
That I have to leave.
Dear friends, I say,
Air will change
Water will change,
Climate will change,
People will change,
Country will change,
But, planet will be the same.
To The Dreamland And Back
Thirteen souls
left their homes, villages
for the dreamland,
they gathered at railway stations
with dreams in their heads,
hopes in their hearts
and travelled two nights,
thinking of the bright days in the dreamland
for the rest of their lives,
finally they reached New Delhi
where they met each other
and the scheming agents-dream merchants,
they ate, played cards,
and nursed their dreams,
while their visas were arranged,
the agents took their time,
finally visas were brought,
air tickets were booked,
joyous were the dreamers
though they had different routes,
routes to Europe- their dreamland
the land of instant riches,
the land of prosperity,
the land of opportunity,
they passed over different lands
India-Uzbekistan-Russia-Finland
Delhi -Kiev-Frankfurt and so on;
the scheming agent had assured them all
work that paid a thousand euros every month,
in restaurants run by their friends,
but plans went wrong,
the agents fled with their air tickets and cash,
leaving them at large,
in a dark hole, dungeon
in the city of white nights,
they had nothing to eat, nothing to drink,
and no money to pay rent,
one day,the young landlady arrived with a bottle of vodka,
knocked on their door, shouting…
‘pay me rentttt… renttttttttt…
or my boys will tear you tonight'
they were scared, terrified,
they screamed for help
in the babble of drowning voices,
searched for the vanishing agents,
but help was far,
night fell,
and the landlady's boys arrived,
they drank and smoked,
and she screamed with wild joy,
then they fell upon the dreamers
like hungry wolves,
bled them all,
one by one,
their violent screams filled the dark space
but help was far,
police came only at dawn,
their hopes were shattered
dreams ruined
they could not even return home,
they had overstayed,
they had broken the law of the land,
now they awaited deportation;
a good samaritan,
a fellow countryman
came forward to help,
offered them rice and bread,
offered them a place to live,
dignity,
a month later,
they returned home
with mental scars,
hopes dashed,
hearts broken,
dreams shattered,
debts to be paid;
but they returned home
with steely determination,
to build their lives,
build their villages,
and to build a new India of their dreams.
*
