Sunday, 12 April 2009
Pablo Neruda rewritten
I have added my own lines to The Dictators by Pablo Neruda as per suggestion in Poefusion.. The bold lines are mine. Do let me know if this works. Do write your own poem similar way taking one poem of one of your favourite poets. Have fun writing it! And leave a link here if you do, so that I visit you.
An odor has remained among the sugarcane:
fermenting unevenly in the heat
a mixture of blood and body, a penetrating
piercing thought about a rose
petal that brings nausea.
I don't know where else to look
Between the coconut palms the graves are full
of women, and children too not spared, consisting
of ruined bones, of speechless death-rattles.
Even now in the midst of dancing death
The delicate dictator is talking
softly into his satellite phone, attired
with top hats, gold braid, and collars.
He surveys around critically examining
The tiny palace gleams like a watch
What he sees satisfies him, but why not.
and the rapid laughs with gloves on
touching the gold panelled walls, his men
cross the corridors at times
looking out at the half alive people
and join the dead voices
in a crescendo of singing
and the blue mouths freshly buried
turn even bluer by the insults
The weeping cannot be seen, like a plant
which wilts under the harsh sun
whose seeds fall endlessly on the earth,
trampled by thousand feet
whose large blind leaves grow even without light.
Have we learnt anything at all from history?
Hatred has grown scale on scale,
from end this world to the other
blow on blow, in the ghastly water of the swamp,
nothing can make it right, when wounds are raw
with a snout full of ooze and silence
as long as fear is there, dictators will play on that