for your statue? One rusts, another breaks, others go out, dry up, fall silent… nothing of man remains. 9 Death turns us into objects. You Become a clock. To let everyone know time every moment. I hear you ticking in my room. I shall become a long sleep to be awakened by your alarm; but ring only when my dream is over. Will you then awaken me into the past, or future? ***** ‘Why do I alone survive to mourn the dead?’ ‘Once you too go there will be none even to mourn’. 1998 (Translated from the Malayalam by the poet)
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