Beedi ( Poem by Vinod Vaisakhi)
- Translated by Ra Sh
(Sugatharaj, who was active in the Naxalite movement, was from my
place. He was in shackles for a long time….till his death. This is for
Sugathan who relished every puff from his beedi.)
Stuck between the fingers
Seeking fissured lips
The rolled pipe of ponderings.
Fuel, for the ones
Dry as coarse tobacco.
Oxygen, for the ones
Grayed by cogitation.
Flute, for the poet
Striking the flint of remembrance
Against the cinder of rain
In the night.
Pipe of camaraderie
For drawing close
Even strangers
Face to face.
Tube, setting dreams in motion
Binding the displaced rails
Battered under the slithering life
That runs on the fuel efficiency
Of tobacco fillings.
We have known the bitterness
Of the whirling dark smoke
That drills into the heart walls.
Yet we stick together
to see the rhythm does not flounder
Along the broken line of the pulse.
Knowing that the insane lips
Are there forever
To suck on till the last
The butt that burns on and off
Like a signaling light,
We move afar
Leaving the dark tracks behind,
Still smouldering.
Vinod Vaisakhi
- See more at: http://www.gulmoharmagazine.com/en/?page_id=267#sthash.4DOJJC6e.dpuf
Beedi ( Poem by Vinod Vaisakhi)
- Translated by Ra Sh
(Sugatharaj, who was active in the Naxalite movement, was from my
place. He was in shackles for a long time….till his death. This is for
Sugathan who relished every puff from his beedi.)
Stuck between the fingers
Seeking fissured lips
The rolled pipe of ponderings.
Fuel, for the ones
Dry as coarse tobacco.
Oxygen, for the ones
Grayed by cogitation.
Flute, for the poet
Striking the flint of remembrance
Against the cinder of rain
In the night.
Pipe of camaraderie
For drawing close
Even strangers
Face to face.
Tube, setting dreams in motion
Binding the displaced rails
Battered under the slithering life
That runs on the fuel efficiency
Of tobacco fillings.
We have known the bitterness
Of the whirling dark smoke
That drills into the heart walls.
Yet we stick together
to see the rhythm does not flounder
Along the broken line of the pulse.
Knowing that the insane lips
Are there forever
To suck on till the last
The butt that burns on and off
Like a signaling light,
We move afar
Leaving the dark tracks behind,
Still smouldering.
Vinod Vaisakhi
- See more at: http://www.gulmoharmagazine.com/en/?page_id=267#sthash.4DOJJC6e.dpuf
Beedi ( Poem by Vinod Vaisakhi)
- Translated by Ra Sh
(Sugatharaj, who was active in the Naxalite movement, was from my
place. He was in shackles for a long time….till his death. This is for
Sugathan who relished every puff from his beedi.)
Stuck between the fingers
Seeking fissured lips
The rolled pipe of ponderings.
Fuel, for the ones
Dry as coarse tobacco.
Oxygen, for the ones
Grayed by cogitation.
Flute, for the poet
Striking the flint of remembrance
Against the cinder of rain
In the night.
Pipe of camaraderie
For drawing close
Even strangers
Face to face.
Tube, setting dreams in motion
Binding the displaced rails
Battered under the slithering life
That runs on the fuel efficiency
Of tobacco fillings.
We have known the bitterness
Of the whirling dark smoke
That drills into the heart walls.
Yet we stick together
to see the rhythm does not flounder
Along the broken line of the pulse.
Knowing that the insane lips
Are there forever
To suck on till the last
The butt that burns on and off
Like a signaling light,
We move afar
Leaving the dark tracks behind,
Still smouldering.
Vinod Vaisakhi
- See more at: http://www.gulmoharmagazine.com/en/?page_id=267#sthash.4DOJJC6e.dpuf
Beedi ( Poem by Vinod Vaisakhi)
- Translated by Ra Sh
(Sugatharaj, who was active in the Naxalite movement, was from my
place. He was in shackles for a long time….till his death. This is for
Sugathan who relished every puff from his beedi.)
Stuck between the fingers
Seeking fissured lips
The rolled pipe of ponderings.
Fuel, for the ones
Dry as coarse tobacco.
Oxygen, for the ones
Grayed by cogitation.
Flute, for the poet
Striking the flint of remembrance
Against the cinder of rain
In the night.
Pipe of camaraderie
For drawing close
Even strangers
Face to face.
Tube, setting dreams in motion
Binding the displaced rails
Battered under the slithering life
That runs on the fuel efficiency
Of tobacco fillings.
We have known the bitterness
Of the whirling dark smoke
That drills into the heart walls.
Yet we stick together
to see the rhythm does not flounder
Along the broken line of the pulse.
Knowing that the insane lips
Are there forever
To suck on till the last
The butt that burns on and off
Like a signaling light,
We move afar
Leaving the dark tracks behind,
Still smouldering.
Vinod Vaisakhi
- See more at: http://www.gulmoharmagazine.com/en/?page_id=267#sthash.4DOJJC6e.dpuf
Beedi ( Poem by Vinod Vaisakhi)
- Translated by Ra Sh
(Sugatharaj, who was active in the Naxalite movement, was from my
place. He was in shackles for a long time….till his death. This is for
Sugathan who relished every puff from his beedi.)
Stuck between the fingers
Seeking fissured lips
The rolled pipe of ponderings.
Fuel, for the ones
Dry as coarse tobacco.
Oxygen, for the ones
Grayed by cogitation.
Flute, for the poet
Striking the flint of remembrance
Against the cinder of rain
In the night.
Pipe of camaraderie
For drawing close
Even strangers
Face to face.
Tube, setting dreams in motion
Binding the displaced rails
Battered under the slithering life
That runs on the fuel efficiency
Of tobacco fillings.
We have known the bitterness
Of the whirling dark smoke
That drills into the heart walls.
Yet we stick together
to see the rhythm does not flounder
Along the broken line of the pulse.
Knowing that the insane lips
Are there forever
To suck on till the last
The butt that burns on and off
Like a signaling light,
We move afar
Leaving the dark tracks behind,
Still smouldering.
Vinod Vaisakhi
- See more at: http://www.gulmoharmagazine.com/en/?page_id=267#sthash.4DOJJC6e.dpuf
Beedi ( Poem by Vinod Vaisakhi)
- Translated by Ra Sh
(Sugatharaj, who was active in the Naxalite movement, was from my
place. He was in shackles for a long time….till his death. This is for
Sugathan who relished every puff from his beedi.)
Stuck between the fingers
Seeking fissured lips
The rolled pipe of ponderings.
Fuel, for the ones
Dry as coarse tobacco.
Oxygen, for the ones
Grayed by cogitation.
Flute, for the poet
Striking the flint of remembrance
Against the cinder of rain
In the night.
Pipe of camaraderie
For drawing close
Even strangers
Face to face.
Tube, setting dreams in motion
Binding the displaced rails
Battered under the slithering life
That runs on the fuel efficiency
Of tobacco fillings.
We have known the bitterness
Of the whirling dark smoke
That drills into the heart walls.
Yet we stick together
to see the rhythm does not flounder
Along the broken line of the pulse.
Knowing that the insane lips
Are there forever
To suck on till the last
The butt that burns on and off
Like a signaling light,
We move afar
Leaving the dark tracks behind,
Still smouldering.
Vinod Vaisakhi
- See more at: http://www.gulmoharmagazine.com/en/?page_id=267#sthash.4DOJJC6e.dpuf
Beedi ( Poem by Vinod Vaisakhi)
- Translated by Ra Sh
(Sugatharaj, who was active in the Naxalite movement, was from my
place. He was in shackles for a long time….till his death. This is for
Sugathan who relished every puff from his beedi.)
Stuck between the fingers
Seeking fissured lips
The rolled pipe of ponderings.
Fuel, for the ones
Dry as coarse tobacco.
Oxygen, for the ones
Grayed by cogitation.
Flute, for the poet
Striking the flint of remembrance
Against the cinder of rain
In the night.
Pipe of camaraderie
For drawing close
Even strangers
Face to face.
Tube, setting dreams in motion
Binding the displaced rails
Battered under the slithering life
That runs on the fuel efficiency
Of tobacco fillings.
We have known the bitterness
Of the whirling dark smoke
That drills into the heart walls.
Yet we stick together
to see the rhythm does not flounder
Along the broken line of the pulse.
Knowing that the insane lips
Are there forever
To suck on till the last
The butt that burns on and off
Like a signaling light,
We move afar
Leaving the dark tracks behind,
Still smouldering.
Vinod Vaisakhi
- See more at: http://www.gulmoharmagazine.com/en/?page_id=267#sthash.4DOJJC6e.dpuf
Beedi ( Poem by Vinod Vaisakhi)
- Translated by Ra Sh
(Sugatharaj, who was active in the Naxalite movement, was from my
place. He was in shackles for a long time….till his death. This is for
Sugathan who relished every puff from his beedi.)
Stuck between the fingers
Seeking fissured lips
The rolled pipe of ponderings.
Fuel, for the ones
Dry as coarse tobacco.
Oxygen, for the ones
Grayed by cogitation.
Flute, for the poet
Striking the flint of remembrance
Against the cinder of rain
In the night.
Pipe of camaraderie
For drawing close
Even strangers
Face to face.
Tube, setting dreams in motion
Binding the displaced rails
Battered under the slithering life
That runs on the fuel efficiency
Of tobacco fillings.
We have known the bitterness
Of the whirling dark smoke
That drills into the heart walls.
Yet we stick together
to see the rhythm does not flounder
Along the broken line of the pulse.
Knowing that the insane lips
Are there forever
To suck on till the last
The butt that burns on and off
Like a signaling light,
We move afar
Leaving the dark tracks behind,
Still smouldering.
Vinod Vaisakhi
- See more at: http://www.gulmoharmagazine.com/en/?page_id=267#sthash.4DOJJC6e.dpuf
Beedi ( Poem by Vinod Vaisakhi)
- Translated by Ra Sh
(Sugatharaj, who was active in the Naxalite movement, was from my
place. He was in shackles for a long time….till his death. This is for
Sugathan who relished every puff from his beedi.)
Stuck between the fingers
Seeking fissured lips
The rolled pipe of ponderings.
Fuel, for the ones
Dry as coarse tobacco.
Oxygen, for the ones
Grayed by cogitation.
Flute, for the poet
Striking the flint of remembrance
Against the cinder of rain
In the night.
Pipe of camaraderie
For drawing close
Even strangers
Face to face.
Tube, setting dreams in motion
Binding the displaced rails
Battered under the slithering life
That runs on the fuel efficiency
Of tobacco fillings.
We have known the bitterness
Of the whirling dark smoke
That drills into the heart walls.
Yet we stick together
to see the rhythm does not flounder
Along the broken line of the pulse.
Knowing that the insane lips
Are there forever
To suck on till the last
The butt that burns on and off
Like a signaling light,
We move afar
Leaving the dark tracks behind,
Still smouldering.
Vinod Vaisakhi
- See more at: http://www.gulmoharmagazine.com/en/?page_id=267#sthash.4DOJJC6e.dpuf
Beedi ( Poem by Vinod Vaisakhi)
- Translated by Ra Sh
(Sugatharaj, who was active in the Naxalite movement, was from my
place. He was in shackles for a long time….till his death. This is for
Sugathan who relished every puff from his beedi.)
Stuck between the fingers
Seeking fissured lips
The rolled pipe of ponderings.
Fuel, for the ones
Dry as coarse tobacco.
Oxygen, for the ones
Grayed by cogitation.
Flute, for the poet
Striking the flint of remembrance
Against the cinder of rain
In the night.
Pipe of camaraderie
For drawing close
Even strangers
Face to face.
Tube, setting dreams in motion
Binding the displaced rails
Battered under the slithering life
That runs on the fuel efficiency
Of tobacco fillings.
We have known the bitterness
Of the whirling dark smoke
That drills into the heart walls.
Yet we stick together
to see the rhythm does not flounder
Along the broken line of the pulse.
Knowing that the insane lips
Are there forever
To suck on till the last
The butt that burns on and off
Like a signaling light,
We move afar
Leaving the dark tracks behind,
Still smouldering.
Vinod Vaisakhi
- See more at: http://www.gulmoharmagazine.com/en/?page_id=267#sthash.4DOJJC6e.dpuf
Beedi ( Poem by Vinod Vaisakhi)
- Translated by Ra Sh
(Sugatharaj, who was active in the Naxalite movement, was from my
place. He was in shackles for a long time….till his death. This is for
Sugathan who relished every puff from his beedi.)
Stuck between the fingers
Seeking fissured lips
The rolled pipe of ponderings.
Fuel, for the ones
Dry as coarse tobacco.
Oxygen, for the ones
Grayed by cogitation.
Flute, for the poet
Striking the flint of remembrance
Against the cinder of rain
In the night.
Pipe of camaraderie
For drawing close
Even strangers
Face to face.
Tube, setting dreams in motion
Binding the displaced rails
Battered under the slithering life
That runs on the fuel efficiency
Of tobacco fillings.
We have known the bitterness
Of the whirling dark smoke
That drills into the heart walls.
Yet we stick together
to see the rhythm does not flounder
Along the broken line of the pulse.
Knowing that the insane lips
Are there forever
To suck on till the last
The butt that burns on and off
Like a signaling light,
We move afar
Leaving the dark tracks behind,
Still smouldering.
Vinod Vaisakhi
- See more at: http://www.gulmoharmagazine.com/en/?page_id=267#sthash.4DOJJC6e.dpuf
Beedi ( Poem by Vinod Vaisakhi)
- Translated by Ra Sh
(Sugatharaj, who was active in the Naxalite movement, was from my
place. He was in shackles for a long time….till his death. This is for
Sugathan who relished every puff from his beedi.)
Stuck between the fingers
Seeking fissured lips
The rolled pipe of ponderings.
Fuel, for the ones
Dry as coarse tobacco.
Oxygen, for the ones
Grayed by cogitation.
Flute, for the poet
Striking the flint of remembrance
Against the cinder of rain
In the night.
Pipe of camaraderie
For drawing close
Even strangers
Face to face.
Tube, setting dreams in motion
Binding the displaced rails
Battered under the slithering life
That runs on the fuel efficiency
Of tobacco fillings.
We have known the bitterness
Of the whirling dark smoke
That drills into the heart walls.
Yet we stick together
to see the rhythm does not flounder
Along the broken line of the pulse.
Knowing that the insane lips
Are there forever
To suck on till the last
The butt that burns on and off
Like a signaling light,
We move afar
Leaving the dark tracks behind,
Still smouldering.
Vinod Vaisakhi
- See more at: http://www.gulmoharmagazine.com/en/?page_id=267#sthash.4DOJJC6e.dpuf
Beedi ( Poem by Vinod Vaisakhi)
- Translated by Ra Sh
(Sugatharaj, who was active in the Naxalite movement, was from my
place. He was in shackles for a long time….till his death. This is for
Sugathan who relished every puff from his beedi.)
Stuck between the fingers
Seeking fissured lips
The rolled pipe of ponderings.
Fuel, for the ones
Dry as coarse tobacco.
Oxygen, for the ones
Grayed by cogitation.
Flute, for the poet
Striking the flint of remembrance
Against the cinder of rain
In the night.
Pipe of camaraderie
For drawing close
Even strangers
Face to face.
Tube, setting dreams in motion
Binding the displaced rails
Battered under the slithering life
That runs on the fuel efficiency
Of tobacco fillings.
We have known the bitterness
Of the whirling dark smoke
That drills into the heart walls.
Yet we stick together
to see the rhythm does not flounder
Along the broken line of the pulse.
Knowing that the insane lips
Are there forever
To suck on till the last
The butt that burns on and off
Like a signaling light,
We move afar
Leaving the dark tracks behind,
Still smouldering.
Vinod Vaisakhi
- See more at: http://www.gulmoharmagazine.com/en/?page_id=267#sthash.4DOJJC6e.dpuf
Beedi ( Poem by Vinod Vaisakhi)
- Translated by Ra Sh
(Sugatharaj, who was active in the Naxalite movement, was from my
place. He was in shackles for a long time….till his death. This is for
Sugathan who relished every puff from his beedi.)
Stuck between the fingers
Seeking fissured lips
The rolled pipe of ponderings.
Fuel, for the ones
Dry as coarse tobacco.
Oxygen, for the ones
Grayed by cogitation.
Flute, for the poet
Striking the flint of remembrance
Against the cinder of rain
In the night.
Pipe of camaraderie
For drawing close
Even strangers
Face to face.
Tube, setting dreams in motion
Binding the displaced rails
Battered under the slithering life
That runs on the fuel efficiency
Of tobacco fillings.
We have known the bitterness
Of the whirling dark smoke
That drills into the heart walls.
Yet we stick together
to see the rhythm does not flounder
Along the broken line of the pulse.
Knowing that the insane lips
Are there forever
To suck on till the last
The butt that burns on and off
Like a signaling light,
We move afar
Leaving the dark tracks behind,
Still smouldering.
Vinod Vaisakhi
- See more at: http://www.gulmoharmagazine.com/en/?page_id=267#sthash.4DOJJC6e.dpuf
