On this side
in a long moat
between the rampart and the inner wall
carefully ordered
stacks of weapons from the last war:
tank trunks, mutilated cannons, flat-nosed mortars—
their unblinking blind eyes
staring at the sky.
On that side
on a mound
between the rampart and the wall,
half overgrown by disorderly thickets
ruins of a monastery and a church
darkness surging from frameless windows
as if seeking men on the earth . . .
God, my poor God,
who murdered you more?
Translated from the Hindi by Lucy Rosenstein