From a Borrowed Land E-Book

Shash Trevett

• Herausgeber: The Poetry Business
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 18

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Marked by trauma, From a Borrowed Land bears witness to the Tamil experience during the Sri Lankan civil war. From the safety of 'the borrowed land', these poems remember and grieve both historical and personal loss: loss of lives, of a homeland, of a language, and of a way of life.

Leseprobe

Published 2021 by

Smith|Doorstop Books

The Poetry Business

Campo House,

54 Campo Lane,

Sheffield S1 2EG

Copyright © Shash Trevett 2021

All Rights Reserved

ISBN 978-1-912196-64-7

ePub ISBN 978-1-912196-82-1

Typeset by The Poetry Business

Printed by Biddles, Sheffield

Smith|Doorstop Books are a member of Inpress:

www.inpressbooks.co.uk

Distributed by NBN International, 1 Deltic Avenue,

Rooksley, Milton Keynes MK13 8LD

The Poetry Business gratefully acknowledges the support of Arts Council England.

Contents

New Words, New Clothes

In Your Old Age

The Sinhala Only Act, 1956

I.P.K.F.

Stone Walls

Muthumai Kolam

புதைகுழிப் பாடல்

Grave Song by Cheran

The Memorial

Things Happen

Now that the War is Over

Blue Lotus Flowers

I         What She Says

II       What She Says

III     What She Says

IV     What She Says

V       What She Says

VI     What She Says

Village

I was Na’amah

எனது பாடல்கள்

My Songs by Vinothini

Psalm

The Last Mango Tree

Gardeners’ Question Time, followed by the News

My Grandfather’s House

For Richard

New Words, New Clothes

I discarded the words first.

And then, for a while, mute silence.

I watched and learnt like a mynah bird.

அ became A

ஈ became E

ஐ I changed

to a short, sharp I.

After a while through whispers and croaks

new words emerged

in the borrowed tongue of a borrowed land.

Tentative, tiny and uncomplicated

brand new, pain-free little words.

Their strange scrolls flowed around me.

F was once a little Fish

Z was once a piece of Zinc

X was once a great king Xerxes

For the first time I formed an F, wrote

a Z, sounded an X. In the borrowed tongue

of a borrowed land I dressed myself in them.

I abandoned two millennia

of poetry, mythology and history.

No Pallavan or Cholan could claim sovereignty

over my mouth, my tongue, my mind.

In the borrowed tongue of a borrowed land

in single, stuttering, borrowed syllables

I began to talk again

and the new words began to flow.

In Your Old Age

Appa, do you remember evenings

on the veranda, eating cutlets,

and patties and fried nethali?

The smell of freshly made string hoppers

of hot coconut sambal flecked with