• Vol. 01
  • Chapter 09
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I blink in the din of afternoon emptiness,
something invisible sneaking next to me;
holding its breath it breaks into the sanctum of my anxieties.
I put my hands on my ears, staring at pieces.

I stand up to get away from here,
moving a pawn on the board,
fumbling for a word within myself for this game,
a word away from itself; it has no name –
the word that is never spelt wrong,
has no other meaning for you and me.

Never a question of yes and no!
While we wind the game clock, never a need
to change our rules of grammatical relations.
Fallen pieces give birth to hope for themselves;
in a losing game on the board, after Checkmate,
a square remains for compassion.

Translation from Hindi : Gale Burns