Vijayaraja Mallika (1985 -

[ Famous works: - Dhaivathinte Makal, Aaan Nadhi, Mallika Vasantham...]

Though I lived as a man, 

Once a desire sprouted,

To live as a woman.

A growing bosom-like woman,

Turned me into a half-woman.

I can't walk on the hot lava,

While writing, I am you,

the man,

the woman,

the man and the woman,

The perfect creation.

A woman born as a woman.

I am the woman

Man's transition to a transformation.

I can't flower like you,

Still, glow like the sunflower,

And flower the words to poems.

Oh Rajamallika !

I know the warmth of melted stones,

Stones that pierce,

The hot stones,

The sharp stones,

The hot melted stones,

Stones from a volcano,

Gleam of a flower, the sunflower,

The flare that shines in the fire.

Like the flare in the pyre.

Like the glow in the hot lava.

T P Vinod (1979 -

 [Famous works: - Nilaviliye kurichulla Kadankathakal, allaathenth, sathymaayum lokame, sandehangalude nirdhokshashangakal...]

Seeking pleasure by 

Seeking meaning 

In the nothingness.

Seeking pleasure in the

Unseen sights of

insights.

Seeking pleasure in the

Unheard voices of

voices.

I see myself in that pleasure.

Rajeev Aalunkal (1973-

[Famous works: -  Nilavili Theyyam, Verukalude Vedantham, Pallotti Mittayi, Kanal Pennu..]

A tail in the name, as the Banyan tree.

Poetry even in the roots of Banyan trees.

Songs sprout from the roots of Vedanta.

Poems in the golden Champa.

So many birds to recite those poems.

Roaming birds can see those views.

Even the silence in the night,

Will turn to songs.

Even the stories of the termite,

Would become the poems.

It's the depth of the banyan tree.

Not the lost childhood,

Under the tree, but earned,

The depth of the roots.

It's the pilgrimage of the soul,

It's the wind strokes from the bodhi tree.

A tail in the name, as the Banyan tree,

Poetry in the roots of Banyan trees.

Songs sprout from the roots of Vedanta.

It's the wind strokes from the bodhi tree.

It's the wind strokes from the bodhi tree.

P P Ramachandran (1970

[ Kaanekkane, Randaayi murichathu,Kaate kadale, Kalamkaari, Lalitham...]

Poems in the snail and in the attic.

Poems in the rod and the rust.

In the words and in the glance.

In the speed of fish tilting their heads,

PP can see the song in the dust.

Poems in the rod and the rust. 

Poems in the snail and in the attic.

Blending in the mixture,

The colours of the rainbow,

Into the poems of colours.

Poems in the atoms, in the parades,

To flow in a unique path,

Became the pathway of poems.

In the speed of fish tilting their heads,

PP can see the song in the dust.

Poems in the rod and the rust. 

Poems in the snail and in the attic.

K V Ramkrishnan (1935 -

Reference:  Priya Kavithakal by Green Books.

The words that carried,

The pain of mind,

Gauging the heartbeats 

Of the River Ganges.

Sleepless nights need

Not to be in the boiling Ganges.

Every single karma designed,

Would it drain from the veins,

By washing in the Ganges?

In fury, in care, in fire, in madness,

In learning, in sculpture,

In nature's hunger, in plants,

In love with seeing the mother,

Burned the mind, melted 

and flowed the words.

Be it in the small plants. 

Or in the wildness of the Taj Mahal,

In the sun and moon, 

Witnessing the magic,

The words of light,

Removed the mask,

Walking back home in the dark.

Wish to flow back,

From the dry river Ganges

To the boiling river Ganges.

About me

[My poetry books: Kannadi Kavithakal, Curiosity, Engineer, 51 Aksharangal, Kavikal Kavithyaakunnu, Poets are poems.]

I was once a stone,

Before carving any shape.

Then the grass.

No. Just the soil.

Not even the soil,

Just the dust.

Just the dew drops.

No. The rain clouds.

Started as drizzling.

Then, as the rain.

At times, a bit of a storm.

Once the pollen,

Just a topping on the flower.

Pollinated heavily.

Became the curry leaves,

Became the river,

Became the sparrow,

And the pigeon

Then the eagle.

Still, in the desire,

In the passion, my mind flutters,

With words of the poetic kings.

In the spark, in the lightning,

A rousing desire to become a child, 

A child of innocence and curiosity.

A rousing desire to become a child, 

A child of innocence and curiosity.

Cina K S (1975 -

[Winter Hues - It's a different work of poetry from the rest. Though it's a collection of English poems, I have included part of this collection. Now, this is the English version of a poem about her work originally written in Malayalam. Winter Hues is a collection of poems written about each of her paintings.]

Queen of the oil painting,

Paintings transpired into poetry.

Every precious sketch,

Every stroke of the colour,

Cast the colours of the cocktail.

The spirit of the art,

Hiding the secrets behind-

The sketches and colours,

Turned into poetry.

Drawing the pictures once again.

In the new paintings,

With new life,

Would you wander in search

Of poetry once again?

Vilson Koozhoor (1970 -

[ Famous works: Koozhoor Vilsante Kavithakal]

Not in the village,

But a river in the woods,

The poem of the Koozhoor River.

Without seeking,

Flirted with the spring.

Sung to the ocean,

Sung to the desert,

The songs of Koozhoor.

Knowing the abandonment,

Served the song of love.

In the woods and in the home,

Isolated like a life in the desert.

Secluded in the dark.

Knowing the journeys,

Not the ultimate plans.

I can't stop loving

Even if I am abandoned,

In the woods and the desert,

Even if I am lost in my life.

I can't stop loving.

 

Lindo Chirammel (1973 -

[ Famous works:     Bonsai (2007), Ente Thathwa Chinthakal (1999) ]

Like Bonsai thoughts

Foolish man.

Trying to write the 

Time of fate.

Bonsai, the man on top

Trying to decide the fate,

Of another man of fate.

Everywhere you see theft.

Not all are adorned with flowers,

Are blooming flower trees.

The smiles and tears 

Trickled from my eyes was not mine

It was yours.

Between us, there was a river.

And a boat on the river,

I was just the boatman.

If you see how a horseman 

And horses feel arrogance!

P Raman (1972 -

[ Famous works: Kanam, Bhaashayum, Kunjum, Irumbu...]

Poems flew,

Without burden, in burden.

Around jasmine flowers,

When twilight sinks,

Rays of the sun lamented.

Olden views enounced the 

Secrets of endurance.

Like in the Milky Way,

Flew the clam poems.

In the reminiscence of 

Old house music and joy.

Goodbye to the depths.

An old man born in the corridors,

Thick in gossamer in all corners.

There may not be any person.

Like that, I thought,

Moydeen said, "I can not 

spend sleepless nights.

Hence, once in a while,

poetry caresses. Dream of a poet 

Without any readers." 

The long silence of the poet,

Clear even in the faded lights.

Clear like daylight.

Language and children are my joy.

The isolated islands of-

My soil is my elation.

Language and children are my joy.

The isolated islands of-

My soil is my elation.

P N Gopi Krishnan (1969 -

[ Famous works: Kavitha Maamsa Bhojiyaanu, Biriyaniyum Mattu Kavithakalum, Madiyarude Maanifesto, Idikkaaloori Panambattadi...]

The scientist who discovered-

fire, the mother of masala dosa-

Is not God.

Fire created everything.

Even the Gandhi.

I have learned that.

That's why I discovered,

Without that dress,

India is just a piece of soil.

Someone who searches for the-

Omitted line from the poem,

Would ask, who should be saved?

Should I save myself or my poems?

When you did that with your lips,

The world disappeared.

Poems remained.

Poem of laughter.

Laughter is not just a poem.

That's the freedom.

That crosses frontiers.

That dissolves the frontiers.

The world disappears in the world.

Gopi, you painted the world.

In one laugh, in one word.

Surprising people who think

Laughter means happiness.

Who taught you to hide it?

Is laughter freedom?

Is laughter a prison?

Where does it lead?

To which path?

Laughter is a path in the woods

A wild path.

You must be there to guide,

At least half the distance.

Anil Panachooraan (1969 - 2021 )

With one song, I would write,

For 1000 years to sing.

No. No more poems.

No more songs.

I contain in that one line.

Just one line,

Only one line.

No more lines.

In one line, the revolt of the world arises.

I am awakened in that line.

Only one line.

" The flowering tree 

 That bloomed from the

 Soil soaked in the blood."

Revolt of the land. Revolution.

From the pen, from the words,

Revolt of the oppressed.

The land of revolution.

Rafeeque Edappal

[Work: Pravaasa Chumarile Chithrangal]

In the sojourn,

Acting safely, celebrated the festivals.

Winning words in the wind of the desert,

As the paintings of the migration.

After the credits and debits,

Unless I go back,

I can't rise in the cold mornings.

No one will ask, 

When would I come back?

I can't write about my sweat.

But when it rains in my village,

A cool breeze flows in the mind.

Forgetting the accounts.

Becoming one of the memories-

Of my love, like any expat.

My homeland is a big cemetery. 

Built in those flowers of memory.

Kamaruddin Amayam (1968-

( Famous works : Swargathileykkula Padikal. Kavithakal]

Every new friend,

It's a new discovery.

That's my realisation.

Like lizards, a few.

A few like tortoise,

Pulling the head back in time.

Few like Brutus.

Few like Judas.

And a few like drums.

A few of them are asking 

If there is any news today.

Some of them stated,

They can create any news for tomorrow.

That's the poetry of the news.

Not my style to turn 

Violence into peace

and peace into pieces of violence.

A translation is enough

To do that dirty job.

Singing Kamaruddin.

Not Kulfi. But Kufiya.

Not the apple of Kashmir.

A poem to become the pillow,

To find a mellow solace.

My poetry is the philosopher's stone,

Like the eggs of the birds,

Waiting to open the cage.

Anwar Ali (1966 -

[ Famous works: - Mazhakkaalam, Aadi aadi alanja Marangale. ]

Bloodline of Chullikkad and Kadammnitta poets.

Absorbed in the veins of Ali.

Anwar Ali, the strata of rebellion.

Feelings streamed, and thoughts.

Found its wings of fire,

Boiled and toiled the revolting words.

Observer during the dark years.

Yet not the moral police.

When the crazy rules of certain

Kingdoms turn into the moral police.

I am the observer. Anwar Ali.

   

Still, I yelled.

Dum. Dum. Dum.

Dum. Dum. Dum.

To the justice. To the law of justice.

To the people who twist justice

and the law in the shadows of the ruling.

To nail on the coffin,

A wasted effort.

To the voices in the prison.

To give voice to the voiceless.

Even the groaning soars as a poem.

Growing like an amoeba, my poems.

Knowing myself,

Gliding and sliding slowly.

In the new moment.

As the new wind.

From the eyes to the eyes.

Memories walked through woods.

Memories swung in the wind.

 

Murugan Kattakkada (1967 -

Be the man.

Be the man.

Of forgotten poems.

Of forgotten songs.

Be the poem of

Singing the buds,

Be the poem of

Singing sunflower.

In the light of the moon,

Be the moonlight.

Be the luminescence.

Be the man.

Be the man of light.

Ashokan Puthoor (1968 -

[Poet Ashokan, who comes from my place, has published 5 books. Parethante Melvilasam,  Nolaav Swapnagalkk Kannezhuhumbol, Mazha Murichu Kadakkunn Veyil, Puzha Chaadiyoru Kadal Mazha Nanajaaksham Kayarunnu, Makaram manjinodum kaattinodum paranjathu.]

Ashokan worked in the diamond industry for a long time. I have included poems by most of the poets who surprised me. Ashokan will surprise those poets, too.

Let me write about him in two lines first. Then using his lines.

1

By polishing the diamond stones,

Became the diamond of poetry.

2

Starting with the departed man's address,

Scattered the diamonds in Puthoor.

While moonlight draws eyelashes to dreams,

The sunlight that crosses the rain,

The ocean that hopped the river,

Drenched in rain to climb the blue sky.

What December sings to snow,

To the cool breeze,

Was poetry.

Ashoka the poet.

The emperor.

Life cycle of a poet.

Life is the poet.

Ashokan is the poem.

The name of this book was decided after writing this poem. I respect poet Ashokan, the way words flow like a river, including the world in the river. My neighbouring river.

K R Tony

 Tony discovered in Jiji

 Jiji contains Tony.

S Joseph (1965 -

[ Famous works: Karutha Kallu (Dark stone), Vellam ethra lalithamaanu, Meenkaran, Orfuse, Manja Parannal, Chandranodoppam..]

Black is also a spirit.

I was the butterfly.

Carved on the black rock.

Butterfly? Really?

Yes, the black butterfly.

A painting carved on the 

Black rock.

Not a butterfly, 

But that was a sight in the night.

Not the stone faded under the heat,

The rocks with no rights to fade.

Black is not just a spirit

But a power source too.

Rocks that love the dark.

Without question, 

In numbness,

In the rough stones,

Without knowing colours,

Loving the dark in the dark,

Dark rocks rock forever.

To hear the songs of birds,

In the woods, I sat alone,

In the rocks, in the black rock,

In the depths of the woods,

In the silence and,

On the banks of the river.

U A Rajendran

Thank you, poetry.

Thank you, Rajendran.

Thank you to the twilight,

Before the sunset.

Thank you for those words.

To the touching words,

To the touching mind.

To the ears listening to poet Sugathakumari,

As no salutes are required.

Thank you for singing, 

The songs travelled the 

Yesteryears Onam.

Rafeek Ahammed (1961 -

[The collection of poems - Rafeek Ahammed- Mathrubhoomi Books]

With a quill in the hard rocks

Would find the musical tones

Magician Rafi.

Not the king walks in the marsh.

It's the light spread through words.

Like certain seeds bloom only after the rain.

Like certain boughs sprout only after the rain.

Shiva kami would torment the child's mind,

And that's never the ceaseless rain.

Without watching the time, peeking

The dark villain, stormy rain.

The angels won't fall in the smoke near, 

The child who sleeps in the

Streets, in the cradle of fate.

Broken world, one view.

Shivakami, another view.

White light, yet another view.

The trees that swing in the same wind,

Bloomed from different seeds.

The plants that bloom from different myths.

Grew into large trees with unrelated names.

Together, they swing in the same soil.

Together, they sing in the same soil.

The same rhythm and whistling.

Seeing the views drilling the insights, 

The discernment- the art of poetry.

But nothing matches the height of 

Starving Shivakaami dancing in the sun.

Nothing matches the height of 

Starving Shivakaami dancing in the sun.

The glitters that shine in size,

Melted under Shivakaami dance.

I have nothing to utter to the ocean.

Would tomorrow be like today?

Many rains in the field of view,

Some rain as words.

Rafeek rains as solace, 

Be it the eye drops or the raindrops

Lights the sights of insight.

Not bloomed only in the rain,

Rafeek flung the seeds into the soil.

In the love of Malayalam, and 

Insights of love.

Poetry, like a child,

Carried by the poet.

Not bloomed only in the rain,

Rafeek flung the seeds into the soil.

In the love of Malayalam, and 

Insights of love.

Poetry, like a child,

Carried by the poet.

Shibu Chakravarthi (1961 -

I have used words and lines from his popular songs and translated them to compile another poem. Every line is a line from one of his works but joined together.

Flowering time of the 

Screw pine flower.

Blooming time of the green meadows.

Pearl rising in the east.

Oh! Flowering wind, would you enounce it?

Oh! Dragonflies would you enounce it?

Flowers in the dusky cloud,

Like a golden glow, mellow down,

Descend slowly into the sea.

What a wonder! 

Those lyrical beauties are like,

Healing heaven in the world.

Those songs that the strings hide.

Began flowing, like a reminiscence,

Under the sweet mango tree 

In my courtyard.

 

Subash Chandran (1960 -

 In Aluva Desom,

With prominent poet NK Desom,

One different poet blossomed.

Like the master,

Bloomed everything in a couplet.

If someone is to be called as 

Son of Poet Kunjunni Master,

Name it Subash Chandran.

Girish Puthenchery (1961 - 2010)

[Famous works: Thanichalla, Pappiyon Books ]

The lines below are translations of Malayalam song lyrics from many different movies.

Hummingbird hums and sings,

The eyes of the rain-mother clouds,

Filled with her tears, I am drenched in those eyes, 

I shall sing a song for you.

The sun has fallen and covered the crown of the night, 

Will the moon fade away in the pain of my dream?

Beauty adorning the blue ash of the moon, 

Stolen sugarcane from my heart 

I shall give you my heart,

I shall give you my mind, 

Listening to my songs, someone,

Crosses the steps of the river, 

Will the moon fade away in the pain of my dream?

Prabha Varma (1959 -

Flowing from the heights of Thunchatth.

In the boat of Vallathol poet.

Danced along with Kunjan.

Morphed as Aaashan poet.

Swimming in the river of Changumbuza poet,

Through Desom and Idappalli reached Vyloppilli.

Found solace in G, in P, and in Vayalar.

In the feel of Bhaskara, turned to ONV.

Streamed in the power of the Edassery poet.

Uncovering the pearls in the mist.

Turning pearls into poems.

Danced in the light breeze, 

Transpiring dances into songs.

Like the dawn,

Like the petals lose vigour,

Like the leaves fall.

Like the fire blazes,

Like the fire fades.

Like the dark enters the room,

Like the light removes the dark.

Like the blue-sky glow.

Prabha glows. 

Alankode Leela Krishnan (1960-

Famous works: Cyber Nilaav, Nilaa Saadhakam, Prabhatha nadaththil oru nayakutti, Aprathyaksham...]

I wanted to become the

Word of love. 

Seeing the world in one dream. 

I wanted to write only one poem.

I want to sing only one song.

Don't kill. Don't kill.

Never. Never.

I am just a pilgrim.

Walking in the path of poet P,

Not just a walk, running the walk.

In the love of nature,

Burned alive in the pyre.

Wandered in search of culture.

Culturing the soul.

Finding the new paths.

In the streets of villages.

Poetry is my god.

Language is my temple.

That's the true peace for me.

Poetry is my god.

Language is my temple.

That's the true peace for me.

V G Thampi (1955 -

[ Famous work: Aayiram Chirakulla Pakshi.]

To sleep among the snakes,

I need the poetry.

To the unknown land,

I travelled sans any vehicle.

Not looking at the boundaries

Of nations, I danced.

Wonders appeared before me,

Every day with different visuals.

That's the bundle of energy.

To chase the secret dreams. 

Balachandran Chullikkaad (1954 -

[ Famous works: Pathinettu Kavithakal (18 poems), Amavaasi, Maanasantharam (Remorse)...]  

18 Poems,

18 birds in,

18000 ears.

Beatings on the large drum,

Screaming and wriggling,

Thoughts of the victim.

The boy grew in spirits,

Imbibing romantic Changambuzha.

The rennet flowers, you rejected,

Glows forever in my heaven.

You ran away from the musical strings,

Without singing even a single note,

Still, it sings the beauty of love,

Abandoned in the woods.

A tied-up childhood,

From the village Medows,

Wandered in the forest,

With fire and light,

In search of the infinite blue sky.

Chullikkattil, Balachandran.

In the fear of the dark moon,

In an oppressed childhood,

Climbed 18 steps.

To see the son,

In his shades,

Father's remorse started singing,

Not surrender to death,

Not finding peace even in fire,

In the heat of the time,

Wandered wild and clueless.

I am the fire born in fire.

Fire that rises from the dark.

Sailing in the middle of a stormy sea.

Balan, the boy. Chandran, the moon.

Balachandran.

I can still pour,

The songs of love,

like the old wine

In the new strings.

Vigorous romantic songs.

Kurippuzha Sreekumar (1955 -

[Famous works: - Sreekumarinte dhukkangal, Rahulan Urangunnilla, Amma Malayalam, Keezhalan, Suicide Point...] 

Not born as Valmiki,

To the robber in the forest

Out of remorse,

Became the first poet.

Anyone can write,

One born to a fisherwoman.    

Vyasa can write.

Read Gita a 1000 times,

I have poem to recite.

Kureeppuzha not Changamuzha 

Though ends in ppuzha.

Dont read Gita.

Dont wage a war

Dont kill

No more TV discussion on Gita.

During discussion,

Viewers would sing th epoems.

"Kill me..."

During the channel fight,

ReadGita, Read Sita,

Read Rama, Read Jesus

Read Nabi, Read Gandhi

In the end read Gita again.

Without that no one should 

Come Infront of me.

If you come without reading,

I will.... No. I will not kill them.

I will not kill them.

I can't do that.

Read thousands of poems,

I can't do that.

Anyone can write

Poems that bloom in meadows.

The first poet was a robber.

A robber in the forest.

I have failed to hypocrisy.

By smiling, I have failed.

Failed to cunning masks.

Masks that defeat actors.

Still, in the soil of Malayalam,

Ploughing and sowing the seeds,

Without hiding the vision,

Watering the seeds and 

Wait for days and months,

Even in gasping.

To see the blooming trees.

To see the blooming trees.

K V Baby (1953 -

[ Famous works: Adayirikkunna Kili, Kaaval Kili, Minna minnum Minimolum...]

Not KV

Kavi,

Baby Kavi

In poetic style,

Never spilled,

The words of a poem.

Short and sweet.

Baby sings: 

Only one poem to recite.

"Crucified Christ."

Only one poem to recite.

"Crucified Christ."

In search of mercy,

I did not wander more.

The poetry of Christ-

would be above the beauty of words.

The passion that dances

In love turns into a poem of Jesus. 

Song of Jesus falls like Niagara,

In the spirit of life, the song of life.

 

Kaithapram Damodaran Namboothiri (1950 -

(Every line is picked from one of his popular songs. Each line primarily represents a meaningful translation of his Malayalam film songs.]

Lover seeking the spring,

The first forest giggled

In the rhythm of the season.

Playhouse sleeping on the 

Banks of the Vannathi River.

Why do you quarrel with me?

When you caress me like a river,

I would become the banks of

the river, blooming with love.

The twilight sun will turn

Golden like a dream of Ethen.

Your luminous eyes and the words 

Will light my tender heart.

When will you come? 

When will you come?

Can you sing the song of love,

When we meet in heaven.

Kalppetta Narayanan (1952-

[Famous works: Oru mudanthante suvishesham, Ozhinja Vriksha chayayil, Samaya Prabhu, Karutha Paal.]

It's a smoke with fire inside.

Smoke of Kalppetta.

Smoky head fumes the 

Mystery of Narayanan.

The smoke that works,

During the daylight,

And in the night.

24 hours 365 days,

Slogging smoke.

Lies in the smoke.

Or is it the hate?

That's another smoke.

Only one thing without smoke,

That's the naked truth and

Nakedness.

For a few days, you cover the

Naked with smoke.

One day, you would 

Blow the smoke out.

To see the truth out.

Truth of stomach in the frame

And the truth of an empty stomach.

Truth of fighting for life.

Hearing Time-off, smiling 

Blooms. With age moving north,

More learning than ever.

As a student, started learning,

As a teacher, became a student.

Retired to become a bigger student.

Passion for learning never ended.

With age, more desire.

The truth of the journey.

Truth of age, a smokeless truth.

Truth of age, a smokeless truth.

K Jayakumar IAS (1952 -

 [ Famous works: - Rathriyude Saadhyathakal, Solamante Pranaya Geethangal, Ardha Vrithangal...]

Malayalam - his love.

Poet, the king of that love.

Spirit of poet Aashan, 

Captured the soul of Jayakumar.

Like a ghost in the past,

To dance in the future.

A triangular love song,

Story of truth.

In two comers,

Aashaan and Ezhuthachan.

Watching the beauty. 

In both corners,

He built a Taj Mahal for Malayalam.

The King of language love, 

K Jayakumar.

In the heights of Tirur,

Romance flowered,

From one flower, Veenapoove,

Son of Ezhuthachan writing,

Praising the poet of poets, Ezhuthachan,

Singing the song for the queen.

The bird can see the naked truth,

Even in the dark ages, the words,

That showered the light recovered.

Oh! What a mission! To build the Taj Mahal.

In Tagore, In Rumi, In Gibran, In Omar Ghayam,

He carries the foreign spirit, escaping the 

Eyes of the language police.

Infinite dreams of such a language 

With such beauty will flow 

Like a never-ending river.

How many lovers would

Dream of the scent of this language?

It's beyond imagination.

Waiting for one more spring to fall.

In the kingdom of imagination.

Waiting for one more spring to fall.

In the kingdom of imagination.

Civic Chandran (1951 -

[ Famous works: Thadavara Kavithakal, Velichathe Kurichoru Geetham, Griha Pravesham, Valathu Vasham Chernnu Nadakkuka...]

From the prisons,

Hoping for the rebirth,

To avoid perishing,

Started writing like a warrior,

Yelled like in hell,

Don't know who got the wrath

Burned in the fire,

Turned into a pyre.

Would the torch of courage,

Light the lamp forever?

The Kabani River would turn red,

Was never my hope,

But a roar in the despair.

Who will bell the cat?

Asks Chandran 

To bell the cat 

Jumped into the trench of pain.

The Kabani River would turn red.

The torch of courage would

Light the lamp forever.

The Kabani River would turn red.

The torch of courage would

Light the lamp forever.