Issue 61 | Translated Poetry | April 2025

‘It is raining over the sea’ & Other Poems

Naresh Saxena

Translated from Hindi by Kartikay Agarwal

Translation Notes

In a recent conversation, Naresh Saxena reiterated his belief that simplicity must lie at the core of good literature; it is this simplicity, and a directness that characterises his poetry. Almost scientific in his observation of physical reality, he still manages to conduct social and metaphysical enquiries, and arrives at epiphanies.

In translating his works, clarity and simplicity becomes the keystone for decisions around idiom and syntax. This leads to such choices as the introduction of ‘you’ in “Crossing” (the English translation of one of his most popular poems, ‘Paar’). This helps maintain the tone of the original poem, which remains conversational in Hindi despite the passive voice (whereas in English, passive voice feels more formal).

—Kartikay Agarwal

It is raining over the sea

What should the sea do

with all this salt?

How many rivers came, got lost

where, who knows. Which

ones went up in steam,

of that too, it has no records.

Still, all the rivers of this world,

carrying the earth’s salt — all the earth’s salt,

keep gushing into it. The sea

sits helpless.

How to call on

the sweet water fish, how

to quench people’s thirst. It cannot

even drown in some faraway corner.

The sea drops into itself as drops of

rain. On the sea,

rain falls.

Everyone needs salt, sure. But why

must the sea bear this salted burden

for all these people? Their needs?

Is it some sanction on its nature — to always push

against gravity — perhaps a reaction of being

three times the size of all of land?

No one knows if salt flows

in ancient memories of the sea. Maybe.

Its dreams are free of salt, that much

I know for sure. Since childhood

I think about the sea— its yearning

for a meagre spoonful of sugar.

It falls – defeated – keeps falling –

makes three-quarters of me. The sea

is a cloud,

now snow,

snow now

is a cloud.

Listen, Charushila

You see with your two eyes, one sight.

With two hands do one thing.

Your two feet tread

not two roads, but a single path.

Charushila!

One colour plus one colour, is one colour still.

One cloud plus one cloud, is one cloud still.

One river plus one river, is one river still.

If a river we won’t be, clouds

we can’t be, and even colours

if we are not, what can we become?

Ok, you only tell me –

you plus me, how many is that?

Can they tell me without you

how many flowers will it take

for me to see a new spring bloom?

And with you can I not weave

my entire sky—from just one star.

6th December

Among history’s great many delusions

this too was one –

that Mehmud Ghaznavi went back.

He never left,

stayed back. He

showed up after centuries,

struck Ayodhya dumbfound.

In Somnath he battered

Allah with his ram.

This time he clamoured

JAISHRIRAM.

A tree too will remain

At the end, when no one will come along,

a tree will—

leaving its sparrows, its squirrels behind

—the tree that will go with me

will be set on fire even before me.

‘How much wood?’

the seller at the crematorium asks.

Even the poorest buy two-and-a-half quintals, at least.

In my dying wishes

I write the incinerator

must be chosen for my last rites.

  So, after me,

  along with a son and a daughter,

  a tree too will remain in the world.

Crossing

When you cross a bridge,

you cross only the bridge

you do not cross the river.

You do not cross the river,

till you sink

  in the river.

Without sinking in the river,

  you cannot even fathom

  the meaning of the bridge.

Without sinking in the river

even if you do cross the bridge,

you do not cross the bridge

you just wade through scrap

  metal.

You can never get across

till you sink

  in the river.

The bridge

  cannot be crossed.

The river

  cannot be crossed.

Translator | Kartikay Agarwal

Translator Photo

Kartikay is a bilingual Indian poet and translator who finds his voice switching between English and Hindustani. He translates to stake claim to shared truths and experiences in a world increasingly obsessed with ossifying every aspect of our identity.
His original works & translations have featured in magazines such as Jaggery, Narrow Road, imprint, Gulmohar Quarterly, Usawa, EKL Review, and others. He is currently based in Jaipur, where he hosts weekly poetry circles.

Author | Naresh Saxena

Author Photo

Naresh Saxena is a poet, playwright, documentary filmmaker and director.

His work in literature earned him the ‘Pahal Samman’ notably before he published his first collection of poetry, ‘Samudra par ho rahi hai baarish’ (समुद्र पर हो रही है बारिश) in 2000. Other books and selected work compilations include ‘Suno Charushila’ (सुनो चारुशीला), ‘Kavi ne Kaha’ (कवि ने कहा), ‘Naresh Saxena aur unki chuninda kavitayen’ (नरेश सक्सेना और उनकी चुनिंदा कविताएं) and the most recent, ‘Kya koi pankti doobegi khoon mein’ (क्या कोई पंक्ति डूबेगी ख़ून में). He also founded and managed Hindi literary magazines ‘Aarambh’ (आरंभ) and ‘Varsh’ (वर्ष) with his contemporary writers.

He has received various awards over the years such as Rituraj Award, Nagarjun Award, and the ‘Rahi Masoom Raza Sahitya Sammaan’ among others.