~Bhim Darshan Rokka~
Translation : Maya Watson
What fire starts its self?
Negligence must’ve ignited it,
or did someone mean to light it?
But why?
Ask; they’re bound to say something;
Butter lamp, kitchen fire, funeral pyre
glimmer of gem and candle, all of a tribe
here fire has come
emerged from the sun
once begun, like the sun it blazes
other similarities too it shared
burning, this fire,rising within its borders
encompassing both is and is not
in me as well
the butter lamp burns, and there is worship
bright the electric light illuminate
shard labor strokes the kitchen heart
hand only after death the funeral pyre
Fire’s final requirement.
If it’s needful, who wouldn’t start it?
(source : “POEMS OF BHIM DARSHAN ROKA” Book)
