Translated Poem : My Voice

~Bhim Darshan Rokka~
Translation : Maya Watson

The single uproar of many people is advancing
listen carefully
in it is my voice as well
perhaps it will first touch you
then touching all people
grow larger, larger

the size of the solar system
an assembly of suns
if night, then a meeting of moons
the seated stars
circling round
clean and pure
outside and in

of the weeks, Martyr’s Week
of the months, those of holy celebration
painted in the colors of revolution
the arrival of revolutions’ long age has sounded
by now familiar
the sound of the heart
the sound of resonating metal
even if blow is added to blow
these have come together
as if he strong midday sun were ringing

joining, drawing closer
converging in a single direction
to last age after age
with a single desire
spreading both hands
touching all three octaves
meeting place for all the notes
this approaching change

in the thousands and thousands
if you can’t pick out my voice
if you can’t recognize it
I’ll be happy, I’ll know that it has merged completely
that that’s no worry, that there isn’t far to go
that I can reach this destination
that I have become ripe, ready to fall.

(source : “POEMS OF BHIM DARSHAN ROKA” Book)