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El Poeta utiliza la "poesía" para investigar y comprender cómo el lenguaje espiritual y sensual nos  acerca a la comprensión de la realidad divina  Profesor (Dr.) Ram Krishna Singh. Varanasi, India 1950 Poeta y académico escritor en Inglés Hindú. Específicamente Poesía, Ciencias y Tecnología. B.A 1970, M.A. en Literatura Inglesa 1972 Banaras Hindu University, Ph.D.Kashi Vidyapith, Varanasi, 1981. Dr. Singh inició su carrera en periodismo en el District Gazetteers Department, Lucknow, 1973, y como columnista del Press Trust de la India, New Delhi, 1973-74.Catedrático del Royal Bhutan Polytechnic, Deothang, Bhutan, 1974-76, participó como instructor conferencista y profesor del Indian School of Mines en Dhanbad 1976-83, Profesor de Inglés y Director del Departamento de Humanidades y Ciencias Sociales 1993/2012- Actualmente se desempeña como Profesor de Secundaria (Higher Academic Grade)
Investigador, crítico , y poeta contempóraneo, sus actividades editoriales incluyen: Editor invitado del Language Forum, 1986, 1995, Creative Forum, 1991, 1997, 1998, Coeditor & , General Editor Creative Forum New Poets Series, y miembro de Consejo editorial de Canopy, Indian Book Chronicle, Indian Journal of Applied Linguistics, Reflections, Titiksha, International Journal of Translation, Poetcrit, Impressions of Eternity (ie), and SlugFest.. Editor del ISM Newsletter.Dr. Singh ha evaluado cerca de 40 Tesis de grado de PhD. Su obra ha sido explorada en numerosas tesis M.Phil. and Ph.D. de varias universidades.
Su poesía y obra en general ha sido traducida a más de 18 idiomas y otros tantos dialectos incluyendo el Farsi, Esperanto, Kannada, Tamil, Hindi, Punjabi, Telugu, and Bangla. Publicada, entre otros medios virtuales e impresos, Incluye Perspectivas Criticas de la Poesía de R.K. Singh, D.C. Chambial and I.K. Sharma (ed: K.. Dominic, 2011) La Ira en la Poesia contemporanea Hindú (Vijay Vishal, 2014).
*English version  

Querido Joseph Berolo. Gracias por el honor acordado a mi poesía en Naciones Unidas de las Letras  permitiéndome llegar a su numerosa audiencia. Reciba usted y todos los miembros  de Uniletras mis mejores deseos póeticos. RAM KRISHNA SINGH, rofrksingh@gmail.com


Después del Acto 


They practice death
in school and blame India:
terrorist politics.
Ellos ejercen muerte
en la escuela y culpan a ka  India
de politicas terroristas*

No wake-up call
be it Nawaz or Modi
power luxury
in angel costume
each invokes divine

Sin llamada de alerta
bien sea de Nawaz o Modi,
la lujuria del poder
vestido de ángel,
cada cual invoca
la condenación divina 

After the act
ritual truth burial
and peace politics.
Después del acto
el entierro ritual de la verdad
y  las politicas de paz.


In the poems I write
you can read my mind
even know when I'm blue
before the mirror
when I stand in the dark
you can't scent me
nor will words comfort
in chilly December
when alone in candle light
empty coffee cups
deride the syllables
I spin to make haiku
my hairs in air
reveal the baldness:
wank without wad.  

No puedes con mi esencia

Puedes leer mi mente/
en los poemas que escribo/
aún cuando estoy lívido/
ante el espejo/.
Cuando permanezco en la sombra
/no puedes con mi esencia/ .
Las  palabras de consuelo/
en un diciembre helado/
cuando solo a la luz de un candil/
con tasas de café vacías/,
se burlan de las sílabas/
yo doy vueltas componiendo haiku/
mi cabello crispado/
refleja la calvicie:
una paja sin varita mágica.


It's near but
every place has a distance
and people too
they flee to see
me in their vicinity
sense a danger
I don't belong:
they curse me for what I'm not
self-made misery
traps them to hell
I can't help their doom nor stop
their wanton rage
down to smallness
they hate only themselves and
sculpt new sorrows
I must erase
the debris of dreams they leave
and be at peace.
Restos de sueños

Está cerca pero
cada lugar tiene una distancia
 y la gente también.
Huye para no verme  en la vecindad
sentir el peligro
al que no pertenezco.
Me maldicen por lo que no soy.
Su miseria consentida
en el infierno los atrapa..
Nada puedo hacer en su condena,
no puedo detener su rabia sin sentido
 reducida a nada...
Yo debo borrar los restos
de los sueños que ellas dejan
 y estar en Paz. 

Dreams of Clay 
They make my face
ugly in my own sight
what shall I see in the mirror?
there is no beauty
or holiness left
in the naked nation:
the streams flow dark
and the hinges of doors moan
politics of corruption
I weep for its names
and the faces they deface
with clay dreams

Sueños de arcilla
Ellos afean mi rostro
ante mi mismo.
¿Qué debo ver en el espejo?
Allí no hay belleza
ni queda santidad
en la nación desnuda:
los riachuelos corren negros
y las bisagras de las puertas gimen
politicas corruptas.
Lloro por ellos  
y los rostros que desfiguran 
con sus sueños de arcilla.
 Traductor Joseph Berolo 


Ram Krishna Singh, born, brought up and educated in Varanasi, is a retired university professor whose main fields of interest consist of Indian English writing, especially poetry, and English for Specific Purposes, especially for science and technology. He has taught English language skills to UG and PG students of earth and mineral sciences and engineering for about four decades.

He has authored more than 160 research articles, 170 book reviews and 42 books, including Savitri: A Spiritual Epic (1984), Indian English Writing: 1981-1985: Experiments with Expression (1987, rept 1991), Using English in Science and Technology (1988, rept 2000, 2010), Recent Indian English Poets: Expressions and Beliefs (1992), Psychic Knot: Search for Tolerance in Indian English Fiction (1998), New Zealand Literature: Some Recent Trends (1998), Multiple Choice General English for UPSC Competition (2001), Communication in English: Grammar and Composition (2003), Sri Aurobindo’s Savitri: Essays on Love, Life and Death (2005), Teaching English for Specific Purposes: An Evolving Experience (2005), Voices of the Present: Critical Essays on Some Indian English Poets (2006), English as a Second Language: Experience into Essays (2007), English Language Teaching: Some Aspects Recollected (2008), Mechanics of Research Writing (2010), and Writing Editing and Publishing: A Memoir (2016).

His published poetry collections include My Silence (1985), Above the Earth’s Green (1997), My Silence and Other Selected Poems (1996), The River Returns (2006), Sexless Solitude and Other Poems (2009), Sense and Silence: Collected Poems (2010), New and Selected Poems Tanka and Haiku (2012), I Am No Jesus and Other Selected Poems, Tanka and Haiku (2014), and You Can’t Scent Me and Other Selected Poems (2016). Some of his poems have been translated into French, Spanish, Romanian, Albanian, Crimean Tatar, Arabic, Farsi, Russian, Irish, Chinese, Japanese, Serbian, Croatian, Slovene, Bulgarian, Italian, German, Portuguese, Greek, Esperanto, Hindi, Punjabi, Kannada, Tamil, and Bangla.


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DIOS TAMBIEN ESPERA LUZ.Colección de Tanka y Haiku -- GOD TOO AWAITS LIGHT,tanka and haiku, is now available The poet uses "poetry to investigate an understanding of how spiritual and sensual language brings us closer to an understanding of divine reality."El Poeta utiliza la "poesía" para investigar y comprender cómo el lenguaje espiritual y sensual nos acerca a la comprensión de la realidad divina Se publican traducidos al español algunos de los poemas que aparecen en la edición en Inglés. Continúa Ebook

·        Editor : CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform (September 19, 2017)

·         Language: English

·         ISBN-10: 1975993845

·         ISBN-13: 978-1975993849


To be translated. 



Luck awaits me
if I could buy it from
her miracles stores
she gives me three dates
for her call to reach
the higher cosmic forces
she dreams me stand
in the middle of a
tree-lined park
against saffron flowers
flashes of light focus
on my serene face
the shower of gold tempts
a being of light descends
I'm offered a new life
divine abundance
defeat of enemies
and stream of love
if I could pay
for her rituals of
angelic magi.





The deities are dumb
so they speak
louder and louder
vie with each other
for godhood
descend from mosque top
to Supreme Court
now await



I live in a crowd of fakes
smallness rises with age
my mind has ceased to think
new metaphors hardly happen
hunger keeps me awake all night
I mitigate minginess
the inner lives emptied
and filled with fresh stresses
too many fault lines run through
to make sense of the divide
my passion itches and prompts
I nuzzle the virtual to
it's the same virus aground
the same hackers that hurt
the vigor and rigor of
the new, left, or pushed behind
whatever the remedy
wounds take deaths to heal.



She doesn't like to see me
take bath in the sun
or cross the doors naked
 the body frightens her
even in the dark
as if buried in dust
 the whole year passes
with her turning on me
like rheumatic twinge
 emptiness haunts
with mind in the gutter
poetry unsafe
What is there to relish in heaven
if the vulgarity of relationship haunts
even after retiring from earth?
 the loose threads of yearning criss-cross memory
I can still feel the river's twisted flow
toward lower reaches, exhausted and strip teased
 the nudity of moon and stars is beyond touch
who cares I evolve or end like them
suspended from a plane I can hardly reach
peeping through the fog
the sun feebly comforts
a sparrow's nest
built under the window sill:
i hear a new-born crying
my face
locked in her hands
i can't look-
love's changing shapes
a bird in cage
scratching his groin
a worshipper offers food:
the flattered deity
in flowery garbage, holy
water, incense, & sweat
one more plateau
to negotiate between
lapses in bed:
the moon shines bright & naked
I brave her cold lashes


I thought I'd locate you
in the dark lonely street
but I myself got lost
 mind's mazy prompts
shocked me into nakedness
I never perceived
 the misleading sun
the unreal reflections
the dumb show
 dazzle my eyes
shades of terror in alleys
smell of treachery
 at the crossroads
the selfish gene's tarots
of my random choices
 in dim blue light
smiling breasts invite
autumn breeze
 I chuckle to myself
hearing raps of inverse world
and peace in sin


The path to the mastoid mountain is snaky
the women you meet are not fucking material
you can't grab the sun shining in their hair
they're cool but hell-strong, know well how to take care of their wood
 so have some charm within the lust-house of your heart
and enjoy the gathering clouds ready to burst
before you cross the distances
 or strip naked in the sticks
or write poems on stretches of free way
or make deal with the devil at every turn
 be wary of the emptiness ahead.

Dreams puzzling
smallness of waking
I can't live
the child's circumcision
promise of happiness


Hours of silence
and a lot of walks:
no facile words
 no touchiness
no paranoia
no pilgrimage
 but chanting within
through the declining day
the inner acoustics
 on a hilltop
no cloudy incantation:
gasp for nirvana.


I'm no god nor beast
I can't live alone
 can't sail with the stream
even if foolish
 seeking chimeras
imploring in vain
 finished relations
link pigs, snakes, monkeys
 crowd the pretences
in my head suspend
 all formulations
now no more cleansing
 spirit viruses
and false oracles
--Ram Krishna Singh