To a darling rose

Sweet and soft
and delicate too;
They move oft to
invite you.

Access denied.
With the thorns bind.
Remarks a kind;
lies the inner pride.

Bees so hungry,
Become so angry;
Mind to deny
the easy entry

If you get into a quandary,
and don't act as a sentry;
No such laundry,
can protect your gentry. - Esala Erangi Malawithanthri

In this poem the poet describes a girl comparing her to a rose. The rose is sweet and soft but there are thorns behind. The poet pleads that the rose should deny access to bees when they roam in search of nectar. If not, the rose will perish. The poet has used down to earth diction and the metaphor of a rose in reference to a girl. - IT

'Les enfants qui s'aiment':

The children who love

The children who love kiss standing
Against the night walls
And the passers -by who pass point the finger at them
But the children who love
Are there for anyone
And it's only their shadow
That tremble in the night
Evoking fury of the passers-by
Their fury, their contempt, their mockery and their desire
The children who love are there for anyone
They are further further away than the night
Higher Higher above the light
In the dazzling clarity of their first love. Translated by Helani Weerasinghe

In this poem, the poet describes a commonplace scene in France. Though the passers-by scornfully looked at them, the youngsters who make their first love under the shadow of night against the walls were embraced in reveries without paying attention to what was happening around them. Here it seems that the translator has captured the essence of the poem originally in French. Apart from being a good translation faithful to the original, the poem is also an excellent poem in English. One of the important facet of a good translation is that the translated work in the target language should also be in conformity with subtle nuances of that language. The translator has used a matter-of-fact language with appropriate idioms in English. - IT

Why so cruel?

The Bhamiyan Buddha statues,
Spreading undemanding kindness
To far horizons of Afghan soils
Came crumbling down into thin sands
Who can be more cruel?
None, other than a man

The innocent lives across the world
Stolen away at many a times
With bombs, shots and daggers drawn
Not living till they see their dawn
Who can do such brutal things?
None, other than a man

The Nine Eleven we all remember
Not many spared, younger or older
Destinations altered in a wink of a time
Losing lives at a time so prime
Who can cause such brutality?
None, other than a man

The world leaders so great
The Gandhis, Kennedy, and Premadasa
To name only a few but remember a lot
Honoured by stealing the lives overnight
Who could so such cruel killings?
None, other than a man

Will Man open up his eyes?
And think a millisecond
Why am I doing this?
Killing my own kind.
Please give some thought
Before we all, are too late. Dr (Mrs.) Sujeewa Gunaratne

The poem is a plea for kindness in a world of cruelty. It is none other than man who is crueller than any other animal on the planet. It is man's cruelty and religious fanaticism which destroyed the priceless statues of Buddha in the ancient Afghan valley of Bahamian and it is the same men who attacked the twin towers in New York killing scores of men and women. The poet urges the mankind to think about their cruelty to fellow human beings. She has used effective language and emphasise man's cruelty by repeating the lines "Who could do such cruel killings? None, other than a man " - IT

The remnant

Rain seeped in,
Through the torn fronds,
Thatching the roof.

Water flowing,
On the cracked cement floor,
Laid along the clay wall,
And soaked the torn sack,
Carpeting the door-step.

Outside, a rickety bicycle,
Leant against the wet wall.
Rain wetted the dry coconut husks,
Laid along the ledge of the wall.

As flood ambushed the hovel,
And stormed in,
The soggy walls caved in.

Under the avalanche of clay,
The rusty bicycle,
Was crushed to the ground,
Like a beetle under-foot.

The old peasant and his wife,
Came home to a heap of wet clay and wattle,
And watched with cold sorrow,
The sodden ruins,
Of their humble paradise.

The flood had destroyed,
Or washed away,
All their possessions. All, I mean, except poverty. Jayashantha Jayawardhana,

The poet evocatively drives home the stark reality of abject poverty that thousands of people suffer from, through an incident of flood. The torrential rain accompanied with flood had washed away the worldly possession of the poor and old peasant and his wife leaving the poverty behind. The poet has been able to portray a typical atmosphere of poverty which is a reality of life for thousands on this planet. - Indeewara Thilakarathne