Every syllable is a sea.
A void lies hidden
Into the roar of the waves.
A glass of heady liquor,
Full to the brim with red wine;
A blood-stained dagger,
Wrenched from out of the stab
On the back of a friend;
An old book, read, re-read,
Countless number of times,
With pages fluttered frequently,
With passages underlined ; —
A sea lies in wait
In each of these symbols.
Each of the foot-prints
Is a story-teller.
However, I return home,
Gathering only sea-shells,
Lying scattered on the sea-side.
— Translated from Tamil: Chinthamani
