The poet’s curse*

It must be an unwritten love

or a love without words

something between verse and verse 

a teasing ethereality 

an absence or a longed-for 

too precious for the vulgarity of form

or description;

yes, poets who write about love

may not have it

but are nevertheless loved —

for theirs is the language of belonging

not ownership,

in the feudalism of romance

they care not for deed

but tenuriality 

— even in passing —

is land enough for love.

This they know.  

*”It is a poet's curse to be able to write about love but not have it…”

Even the Menik Ganga peed*

Two hundred breasts

when by two divided, one hundred women

the feast was splendid indeed

even the Menik Ganga** fell incontinent upon its shores

Having removed a hundred jewelled girdles, brasiers, pearl necklaces and earrings 

The mango was cut, slice by slice, even as the Goddess Pattini residence held

Even Manamperi*** peeked out hearing the whistles and joyous cheers

Submerged was the Vedahiti Kanda with the yolk of peacock eggs

Two hundred smoldering eyes

when by two divided, one hundred women

the feast was splendid indeed

even the Menik Ganga** fell incontinent upon its shores

[translation of "මැණික් ගඟටත් ඉවුරේ චූ යයි" from the collection "මීළඟ මීවිත" (The next wine) by Ruwan Bandujeewa]

*A politician threw a party to celebrate sexually abusing a hundred women — news item

** Literally, ‘River of Jewels’ which, for many Sri Lankans is the holiest river in the island, and which falls into the sea in the Southern Province, the ‘territory’ of the said politician

***Reference to Premawathi Manamperi, beauty queen of Kataragama, abducted, raped and killed by those tasked to put down an insurrection