[Transcreation] What Nero said

19th July, AD 64


Why loathe me

for playing my fiddle

whilst Rome burns to ashes?

Isn’t it you who set the first flame?

Would the fire extinguish

if my fingers stop?

Will the fire rage anymore

riding on the notes of my song?

Susceptible is the artist within me

I cannot withstand the cries

of the fumes of burning flesh,

I abhor seeing

the art and efforts of great sculptors

ground into mere pieces of marble

I did not wish to hear

the helpless cries of Romulus,

the hapless last breaths of those heads

which dangle from spikes of leaders

fighting for a share in power,

the wails springing from skeletons

of Jesus’ disciples

sacrificed to crosses and lions,

the roar of blood oozing from

the headless torso of Pompey,

the groans of common men

crushed beneath Caesars’s throne,

the sighs let out by blood spilled

from the body of Mark Anthony,

the enticer of Cleopatra,

Octavian’s dreaded drum rolls,

incessant clanks from iron chains

from around the legs of slaves

who from Carthage to gaols,

fought for a stranger’s empire



I am afraid of my own shadow

My only solace is my fiddle

Please do not snatch this away from me

in its own sins as this city burns





“Neroyude Athmagatham”
A poem in Malayalam by K. Satchidanandan
Transcreation by Vijay © 24th May, 2007