The head of Delgres alone
Rises buried in the slopes of the green meadow
As a wondrous stone sculpture.
I stand beside the statue rising just above my head
To be photographed.
The stony rocks stand like headless columns
On the lawn all around.
Perhaps, they are
The soldiers who committed suicide
Along with Delgres?
Delgres does not like tourists, perhaps,
He stares at me
With his big eyes carved on stone
With chisels.
He tells me something in French
Opening his stony lips
“It is thousand times better to die
Than to live as a slave.”
Napolean’s soldiers
With guns on their arms
Descend in military formation
One by one
Down the sloping meadow
From the battlements of the fort
With its canons.
On their closed lips and hard face
Are engraved
Honour that loves freedom
And courage in the face of death.
In the hellish storm
Warning impending rains
The green blades of grass bend in greeting.
They know
Death is not so easy.
But to live in freedom is more difficult,
Their faces tell.
Delgres raises his voice
To order them.
All obey him
And leave by the rear door
The booming of gun fire echoes
In all directions in the fort
When they shoot themselves
In protest against slavery.
It is five in the evening.
The doorkeepers shut the
Gates of the fort.
Their hours of duty are over.
—— Translated from Tamil by S. Vincent
