Hassan Kalam Abul: ‘a shed snake skin is often twice as long as the snake’ transliteration and translation
the neighbours string six nazar [amulet protecting against evil eye] across
the door that faces mine
blue within blue,
their glare chips at the paint
(i tam ya sizhu/[and i sit there])
(s moimi tablitsami i sobraniyami/[with my spreadsheets and my meetings])
(i s proklyatymi podkastami mezhdu moimi ushami/[and these blasted podcasts between my ears.])
I am used to looking away.
(derevnya otsa moevo/[my father’s village,])
(privyazannaya k mindalyu/[lashed to an almond])
(v seredine navodneniya/[in the centre of a flood])
(snova smyta/[washed away, once again])
and I am used to speaking too faintly.
sunlight breaks against skin and my bag bulges
with honeyed bread,
some joys feel like theft
(ikonki na makbuke dumayut shto ya s nimi/[the icons on the macbook believe me to be with them])
(paltsy prirosli k melkoi klaviature/[fingers rooted to the shallow keys.])
instead I kick out my toes
and take stock of the cat and the mynahs and the miniature citrus
and name the dust and the weeds and the fallen boughs
and pour myself into every flower and every clod and every bee
because
I want to remember.
on days when there are no more casual walks through nature
I want to be able to close my eyes, and conjure petals, distinctly
maybe mindfulness is easier at the end of the world:
the acceleration of meaning,
everything with the weight of a sign.
(i vremya visit, razduto/[and time hangs, bloated.])
they say a jinn sweeps through in storms
where clear-headed days turn green
(no dom moego otsa pitayetsa pyatdecyat syem arteriyami/[but the house of my father feeds on fifty seven arteries])
(i luna raskryvayetsa v derevyannye polumesyatsi v tsvete lal cha i serebre/[and the moon opens into wooden crescents with the colour of red tea and the silver of hilsa fish])
and the rain scatters nazar across the surface of the river.
the carapace of a eucalypt
says “you have two years of water left.”
when you ask if the mountain rain will hold you
(ot druzei tol’ko zhguchii smech/[friends have only scorching laughter])
what is it like, to expect that someone will catch you?
sucking stones, I thirst for more days
and the meanest parts of me
look at my loves
(i ya vizhu tech, kotorych ya by pozhertvovala, chtoby ich spasti /[and I see those who I might sacrifice to spare them.])