Sponsored links

Horizon Review

Amarjit Chandan: Two Poems



Salt headlines


{ds1::title}

{ds1::pubDate}

{ds1::description} Read more …

Amarjit Chandan

Amarjit Chandan

Amarjit Chandan (b. 1946, Nairobi) has published five collections of poetry and two books of essays in Punjabi notably Jarhān (poems) and Phailsufiān and Nishāni (essays). He has edited and translated about 30 anthologies of Indian and world poetry and fiction by, among others, Brecht, Neruda, Ritsos, Hikmet, Cardenal and John Berger in Punjabi. He was one of ten British poets selected by Andrew Motion, the Poet Laureate, on National Poetry Day in 2001 and participated in the International Alderburgh Poetry Festival the same year. Sonata for Four Hands. Collection of poems. Arc Publications. Due in 2009. At present working on a British Library Sound Archive Project Between Two Worlds: Non-Anglophone Poets in England: Readings and Histories.

Author photo © Diwan Manna

Untitled

Untitled

Such munificence is your touch
Even in memories I come out of nothingness

I’m walking up the hill in the snowstorm
You are with me
Our sight covers a vast expanse of landscape
My freezing reluctant hand finds warmth
                     in your coat pocket
You’re embarrassed and your arm becomes stiff
We talk interminably
           but our thoughts are there in the pocket
Our hands sitting back to back
Then God knows who touched whom first
Our fingertips felt a strange shock
Hands came out abruptly like scared birds
            bursting out of a cage

We are walking up the hill in the snowstorm
Our minds are still in the pocket
Such munificence is your touch
Even in memories I come out of nothingness

Translated from the original in Punjab by the author with Stephen Watts

Tomorrow

Tomorrow

After seeing Theo Angelopoulos’ film Eternity and a Day


Tomorrow is eternity and a day.

Tomorrow will last longer
          followed by a white night.

Tomorrow is the long kiss.

Tomorrow is what is not present.

Tomorrow is the dream we’ll share
          in the present moment of time.

Tomorrow is the flower about to blossom
          not to be seen by anyone.

Tomorrow is the day when all the clocks will break.

Whatever is to happen is Tomorrow.
Tomorrow is death.
Tomorrow is life.

Translated from the original in Punjab by the author

Chandan

Chandan by his five-year old son Sukant. 1983

   © 2008 Salt Publishing Limited   CLMP   IPG   ACE