TIPA VER GRAN LALIMIER

TIPA VER GRAN LALIMIER

DETRWA TI POEM DEV VIRAHSAWMY

(TOWARDS THE GREAT LIGHT)
A FEW SHORT POEMS BY DEV VIRAHSAWMY

©DEV VIRAHSAWMY FOUNDATION
The Management Company of the Foundation is OCORIAN, 6th Floor, Tower A, 1 Cybercity, Ebène, Mauritius.

Pou seki mo kone,
Seki mo pa kone,
To lamour
Li kouma laroze
Lor enn petal roz.

For those I know
And those I don’t know,
Your love
Is like dew
On a rose petal.

18 SEPTAM 2018 – ALA KI MO ETE!

Li enn gran soulazman
Kan nou kone, anfen,
Ki nou ete.
Konesans donn liberte.
Tou imen lor later ena mem anset:
200 Afriken ki plis ki 50,000 banane desela
Ti kit Lafrik pou peple lemonn.
Nou rasinn dan Lafrik.

Later Moris li enn later Kreol.
Depi 400 banane imigran sorti partou
(Lerop, Lafrik, Lenn, Lasinn)
Nou pe transform nou lil Kreol.
Nou tou nou Kreol;
Nou ena 2 lang Kreol:
Morisien ek Angle.

Nou viv dan enn repiblik maritim:
Nou ena 2,200 km2 later ek
2,300,000 km2 lamer.
Lavi sorti dan dilo;
Nou sivilizasion pou grandi dan dilo.
ENN GRAN DESTEN!

Aster mo kone ki mo ete.
Enn Indo-Afriken-Kreol
Ki kontan later,
Ki pa per lamer.

18 SEPTEMBER 2018 – THIS IS WHAT I AM!

It’s a great feeling
To know who you are,
At long last.
Knowledge gives freedom.
All humans have the same ancestors:
50,000 years ago, 200 Africans
Left Africa to people the world.
Our roots are in Africa.

Mauritius is Creole land.
For 400 years, immigrants
From Europe, Africa and Asia
Have been transforming our Creole island.
We are all Creoles;
We speak 2 Creole languages:
Mauritian and English.

We live in a Maritime Republic
Made of 2,200 km2 of land
And 2,300,000 km2 of sea.
Life comes from the sea;
Our civilization will grow in and on water.
What a great DESTINY!

Now I know who I am.
A Hindo-African-Creole
Who loves his land
And is not afraid of the sea.

19 SEPTAM 2018 – MO IDANTITE

Mo finn viv enn zoli lavi
Ar so bon ek move moman
Tranpe dan dilo sakre lamour,
Lamour Bondie;
Lamour Loga;
Lamour mo zanfan ek tizanfan.
Sak bon ek move moman
Finn ouver mo lizie
Pou konpran mo karrma.
Mo nepli per lamor
Parski li koumansman
Enn lot lavi.
Moksha ou nouvo nesans?
Pa kone.
Me mo atma kone.

Enn ti reflexion:
An Morisien, ki mo pou servi pou ‘atma’?
Mo servi ‘nam’; ena lezot ki servi ‘lam’.
‘Nam’ ek ‘lam’ zot ena plis ki enn sans.
“Zis minwi, bann nam kit zot tom.”
‘Nam’ se enn lespri malefik ousa tortire.
An Angle apel sa ‘ghost’.
“Li enn nam sinema.”
Savedir li kontan al sinema.
Akoz sa ena dimoun ki prefer servi mo ‘lam’.
Tou nam pa malefik.
Ena nam ki gid nou larout.
An Angle apel sa ‘Holy Ghost’.
Akoz sa mo trouv ‘nam’ plis korek
Parski ‘lam’ li kapav osi enn zouti
Ki servi pou koupe-transe,
Pa zis pou raze.

Mo pe viv enn zoli lavi.
Dimoun pe koumans aksepte
Ki nou viv lor enn lil Kreol
Kot nou koz 2 lang Kreol:
MORISIEN ek ANGLE.
Nou tou nou bann imigran
Lor enn lil Kreol.
Samem baz nouvo dime.
Samem soubasman
Pou konstrir NASION MORISIEN.
Malgre difikilte, malgre dife dan lorizon,
Ena lespwar.

19 SEPTEMBER 2018 – MY IDENTITY

I’ve lived a good life
With good and bad moments
Soaked in sacred love
Of God,
Of Loga,
Of children and grandchildren.
Each good and bad moment
Has shed light
On my karma.
I’m not afraid of death;
It’s only the beginning
Of new life.
Moksha or rebirth?
Cannot tell
But my soul knows.

By the way,
Should I say soul or ghost?
In Mauritian there are 2 words for ‘soul’,
‘Lam’ and ‘nam’.
When words are polysemic
Choice is difficult.
Let’s skip this.
Not really relevant.

My life is good.
That we live on a Creole island
Speaking 2 Creole languages,
Mauritian and English,
Is no more repugnant.
That we are all immigrants
On a Creole island
Is our blessed tomorrow,
The foundation-stone
Of the nation to be.
Threatening difficulties? Yes.
Lurking dangers? Yes.
And yet hope shines.

20 SEPTAM 2018 – PARDONE ME RAPEL

Bate-rande pa fer dimal!
Yer, bann Eropeen ti rant partou,
Koken, viole, touye.
Zot ti sir tousa ti zot drwa.
Bondie ti dir zot
Al siviliz bann sovaz.
Zordi bann sovaz pe rant partou
Pou enn bouse manze.
Bann Eropeen pe ranz miray,
Fit zouti, imilie, tortire, touye …
Bate-rande pa fer dimal?
Ki Bondie pe dir aster?

Enn sans lor nou ti lil Kreol,
Kot imigran sorti partou
(Sorti Lerop, Lafrik ek Lazi)
Nou pe ranz sime lalimier,
Tipatipa ziska Gran Lalimier.

Bate-rande fer dimal.
Olie bate-rande,
Anou aprann partaze;
Anou aprann pardone.
Anou lir ansam
Bhagavad-Gita
Ansien Testaman
Nouvo Testaman
Koran.
Tousala parol mem Bondie.

20 SEPTEMBER 2018 – GOD OF MERCY

A tooth for a tooth cannot hurt!
Yesterday they invaded us;
Robbed, raped and butchered.
It was their right, they felt.
God told them
Tame savages
Today savages are invading
For some grub.
They now build walls
Getting ready to humiliate, torture and kill …
A tooth for a tooth cannot hurt?
What is the Lord’s message?

Thank goodness! On our little Creole island
Peopled by immigrants from everywhere
We build paths of light
Step by step to The Great Light.

A tooth for a tooth does hurt!
Instead,
Let’s learn to share;
Let’s learn to forgive.
Let’s together learn to read
The Bhagavad-Gita,
The Old Testament,
The New Testament,
The Holy Koran,
Words from the same God.

23 SEPTAM 2018 – NOUVO KILTIR POLITIK

Tou zafer politik
Me politik pa tou zafer.
Dan tou zafer ki nou fer
Ena so kote politik
Me sa pa vedir ki politik
Kapav ranplas tou.
Politik pa kapav pran plas
Lafwa ek lamour.

Bizen osi fer diferans ant
Politik ek politik-parti.
Ena bann gran problem politik
Ki transand politik-parti,
Politik-partizan.
Sanzman klimatik,
Sekirite alimanter,
Egalite zom-fam,
Drwa minorite sosial ek sexiel,
Literesi … Tousa konsern tou parti politik
Apart bann rasis, fasis ek sexis…
Anou adopte enn nouvo kiltir politik.

23 SEPTEMBER 2018 – NEW POLITICS

Whatever we do
Is in a way political.
Yet politics is not All.
Politics is present in all we do
But politics cannot replace All.
Faith and love transcend politics
Which bows its head.

Let it be clear:
Politics and party-politics
Are not the same.
There are issues
That transcend party-politics,
And political bias.
Climate change,
Food security,
Gender equality,
Minority social and sexual rights,
Literacy concern us all
Except racists, facists and sexists of course.

Let’s adopt a new political culture!

25 SEPTAM 2018 – NOUVO LESPRI

Jeremy Corbyn, Bernie Sanders, Yanis Varoufakis ek lezot
Pe plant lespwar dan leker limanite;
Pa lespwar koz manti,
Fer manti vinn vre
Ek vre vinn manti,
Kouyonn lizie,
Angourdi lespri
Me lespwar ki repoz lor mesaz lavenir,
Lor okip zarden Bondie,
Lor parol mars ar aksion,
Lor kouraz kalkile
Dan lentere zanfan ek tizanfan,
Ki konbat egoism ek gourmandiz
Pou ranplas li par
SOLIDARITE EK PARTAZ.

Zordi gramaten, mo finn aprann
Ki Parti Travayis Angle
Finn deside pou entansifie konba
Kont Pitay-Plen-Tenk
Ki pe touy nou planet,
Fer Lenzistis vinn lerwa
– Enn manz 99, 99 manz enn –
Lamizer nwar pou 99,
Fortinn vantar pou Enn.

Zom, fam, zanfan, partou dan lemon
Pe kriye for-for:
“ARETE FOUTOU!”

Continue reading “TIPA VER GRAN LALIMIER”

4 INDIAN POETS

AN INTRODUCTION by KAMALA DAS

I don’t know politics but I know the names
Of those in power, and can repeat them like
Days of week, or names of months, beginning with Nehru.
I am Indian, very brown, born in Malabar,
I speak three languages, write in
Two, dream in one.

ENN ENTRODIKSION
Mo pa konpran politik me mo konn bann nom
Seki dan pouvwar e mo kapav resit zot kouma
Zour dan lasemenn, ousa mwa dan lane, koumans ar Nehru.
Mo enn endien, bien nwar, pran nesans dan Malabar,
Koz trwa lang, ekrir
Dan de, rev dan enn.

Don’t write in English, they said, English is
Not your mother-tongue. Why not leave
Me alone, critics, friends, visiting cousins,
Every one of you? Why not let me speak in
Any language I like? The language I speak,
Becomes mine, its distortions, its queernesses
All mine, mine alone.

Pa ekrir an Angle, zot ti dir,
Pa to lang maternel sa. Zot pa kapav
Fou mwa lape, zot tou – kritik, konesans,
Kouzen-kouzinn? Les mo koz lang
Ki mo anvi. Lang ki mo koze,
Li pou mwa, so lanver ek so landrwat
Zot pou mwa, zis pou mwa.

It is half English, half Indian, funny perhaps, but it is honest,
It is as human as I am human, don’t
You see? It voices my joys, my longings, my
Hopes, and it is useful to me as cawing
Is to crows or roaring to the lions, it
Is human speech, the speech of the mind that is
Here and not there, a mind that sees and hears and
Is aware. Not the deaf, blind speech
Of trees in storm or of monsoon clouds or of rain or the
Incoherent mutterings of the blazing
Funeral pyre. I was child, and later they
Told me I grew, for I became tall, my limbs
Swelled and one or two places sprouted hair.

Li moso Angle, moso Endien, kikfwa komik, sirtou onet,
Li imen parski mo imen – zot
Pa konpran? Li kriye mo lazwa, mo dezir, mo
Lespwar e mo bizen li kouma
Zwazo bizen sante e lion bizen kriye, sa
Parol imen sa, parol lespri ki
Isi pa laba, lespri ki trouve, ki tande e ki
Kone. Pa parol sourday ek kaylous
Bann pie dan toufann, lapli toransiel, ousa
Bla-bla dan vid dife ronflan
Krematwar. Enn baba
Ti pe vinn gran parski mo ti pe pouse,
Mo lekor ti pe sanze e pwal ti pe pouse.

When I asked for love, not knowing what else to ask
For, he drew a youth of sixteen into the
Bedroom and closed the door, He did not beat me
But my sad woman-body felt so beaten.
The weight of my breasts and womb crushed me.
I shrank Pitifully.

Kan mo ti rod lamour san kone kifer,
Li ti ferm mwa dan enn lasam
Ar enn tilom sez an. Mem li pa ti violan,
Mo lekor zenn fam tris ti kraze.
Pwa mo tete ek mo vant ti fini mwa.
Mo ti pe koule san soulazman.

Then … I wore a shirt and my
Brother’s trousers, cut my hair short and ignored
My womanliness. Dress in sarees, be girl
Be wife, they said. Be embroiderer, be cook,
Be a quarreller with servants. Fit in. Oh,
Belong, cried the categorizers. Don’t sit
On walls or peep in through our lace-draped windows.
Be Amy, or be Kamala. Or, better
Still, be Madhavikutty. It is time to
Choose a name, a role. Don’t play pretending games.

Lerla … mo ti met semiz ek pantalon
Mo frer, koup mo seve kourt, movi ar
‘Tifi pa fer sa’. Zot ti dir
Met sari, to enn beti,
Mazinn maryaz. Aprann koutir, kwi manze,
Okip lakaz. Swiv sistem, swiv kiltir,
Bann ortodox kriye. Aret asiz lor miray, louk par lafnet.
Pa bliye to apel Amy, Kamala. Si to’le
Nou apel twa Madhavikutty.
Swazir to nom, mazinn to rol. Aret fer vadire.

Don’t play at schizophrenia or be a
Nympho. Don’t cry embarrassingly loud when
Jilted in love … I met a man, loved him. Call
Him not by any name, he is every man
Who wants a woman, just as I am every
Woman who seeks love. In him . . . the hungry haste
Of rivers, in me . . . the oceans’ tireless
Waiting. Who are you, I ask each and everyone,

Aret zwe katorz-vetwit, aret
Fer bebet ansaler. Aret fer senn kan lom la
Finn kil twa … Mo ti zwenn enn zom, tom amoure. Apel
Li Zom, zom ki bizen
Enn fam kouma mwa Fam
Mo bizen lamour. Li … enn larivier
Ki fonse, mwa … enn losean eternelman
Ouver. Twa ki twa, mo dimann tou dimoun,

The answer is, it is I. Anywhere and,
Everywhere, I see the one who calls himself I
In this world, he is tightly packed like the
Sword in its sheath. It is I who drink lonely
Drinks at twelve, midnight, in hotels of strange towns,
It is I who laugh, it is I who make love
And then, feel shame, it is I who lie dying
With a rattle in my throat. I am sinner,
I am saint. I am the beloved and the
Betrayed. I have no joys that are not yours, no
Aches which are not yours. I too call myself I.

Repons: mwa ki mwa. Partou-partou, kot pase
Mo zwenn misie mo-mwa-momem
Ki dan bien kouma kouto dan fouro.
Mo-mwa-momem ki bwar tousel
Gramaten, midi, tanto isi-laba,
Mo-mwa-momem ki dan goun, ki fongoyo,
Lerla gagn onte, ki pe mor
Ar enn ronfleman dan lagorz. Mo enn peser,
Mo enn sen. Mo mo konn adorasion
Ek traizon. Mo boner li to boner,
Mo maler li to maler. Mo’si mo Mo-mwa-momem.
22.07.18

02. JEWISH WEDDING IN BOMBAY by Nissim Ezekiel

Her mother shed a tear or two but wasn’t really
crying. It was the thing to do, so she did it
enjoying every moment. The bride laughed when I
sympathized, and said don’t be silly.

Continue reading “4 INDIAN POETS”