Chaand Tanha
The moon is lonesome
The sky lonesome
Wandering from place to place
The heart too is forever forlorn
Desire turns to ashes
A star sinks out of sight
Only a lonesome smoke spirals up
To touch an empty night
Is this what they call life then?
Lonesome bodies, lonesome souls
And if at all you find a partner
Two lonesome people walk side by side
Beyond this flickering light
There is a dwelling place in sight
I shall leave this lonesome world
And bereft the centuries will gaze on
Ever, forever forlorn
Note on the Trans-creation: While the original poem is in a two line stanza format, here I have used four. Also the urdu word tanha is the only one used in the original to convey myriad states of loneliness, but to capture it in English I have used a few additional ones (empty, bereft, forlorn) in addition to lonesome, which I have repeated often to create for the English reader a sense of the original’s rhythm.
The actress Meena Kumari’s only outing into the world as a poetess while she lived is contained in an album titled “I write, I recite” released in 1965. The pieces are in her own voice against a musical score composed by the composer Khayyam. Her voice, with its flawless Urdu diction and its mesmerizing depths and sheer range, does great justice to the poetry in these renditions. Her poetry has been transcreated here in English by Manjul Bajaj.
Showing posts with label Meena Kumari's poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Meena Kumari's poetry. Show all posts
Friday, November 26, 2010
Desert Storm
Aablaapaa Koi
Only a frenzied madman
Blisters on his feet
Would venture into this storm
And light a lamp in it
Bringing alive particles of dust
With his prostrations upon the sand
Turning disused idols of clay
Into gods once again
Quenching the thirst
Of the thorny cactus
With the gift of water
From his cupped palms
Finding, perhaps, a golden stone
And holding it to his heart
Knowing that of his own soul
It is but a broken part.
Note on the trans-creation: The word ‘dasht’ can be translated variously as ‘wilderness’, ‘ruins’, ‘deserted place’. I have picked a single image, that of a desert, and taken it forth in the transcreation. The original is thus more fluid than this interpretation of it.
Only a frenzied madman
Blisters on his feet
Would venture into this storm
And light a lamp in it
Bringing alive particles of dust
With his prostrations upon the sand
Turning disused idols of clay
Into gods once again
Quenching the thirst
Of the thorny cactus
With the gift of water
From his cupped palms
Finding, perhaps, a golden stone
And holding it to his heart
Knowing that of his own soul
It is but a broken part.
Note on the trans-creation: The word ‘dasht’ can be translated variously as ‘wilderness’, ‘ruins’, ‘deserted place’. I have picked a single image, that of a desert, and taken it forth in the transcreation. The original is thus more fluid than this interpretation of it.
Walking Past Your Street
Yuun Teri Rah Guzar Se
You saw me as you walked past
I too saw you as you walked by
You lost your heart
But I lost my life
Walking past your street now
My tread is heavy
I walk like someone
Carrying their own tomb
Devastated I wait at corners
The remains of me adorned
Hoping you’ll walk by
And it will be spring again
Tears flow unchecked
The edges blur
Hoping you’ll step into this river
Hoping you’ll walk across
Note on the transcreation: The concluding stanza of the original has been used as the opening stanza in this version.
You saw me as you walked past
I too saw you as you walked by
You lost your heart
But I lost my life
Walking past your street now
My tread is heavy
I walk like someone
Carrying their own tomb
Devastated I wait at corners
The remains of me adorned
Hoping you’ll walk by
And it will be spring again
Tears flow unchecked
The edges blur
Hoping you’ll step into this river
Hoping you’ll walk across
Note on the transcreation: The concluding stanza of the original has been used as the opening stanza in this version.
A Beginning Without An End
Aaghaaz Toh Hota Hai Anjaam Nahin Hota
There can be a beginning but there can’t be an end
To the story of my life without your name in it my friend
If you can drown your days in the dark river of my hair
You can fall into disgrace but never into oblivion descend
Why shouldn’t I laugh and scatter the pieces of my heart?
That happiness is given equally to all let us not pretend
Unchecked the tears flow, the eyes beg them to stop
He is not a true drunk who to mere alcohol will bend
The days are sinking, my boat of dreams is drowned
The shores they are unmoved, no grief do they expend
Note on the trans-creation: In this version I have focused on being faithful to the original form of the poem. Mostly, I am of the opinion that the ghazal and nazm forms don’t sound natural in English and prefer to do translations which are free flowing and do justice to the rhythm and the emotional timbre of the piece under consideration.
There can be a beginning but there can’t be an end
To the story of my life without your name in it my friend
If you can drown your days in the dark river of my hair
You can fall into disgrace but never into oblivion descend
Why shouldn’t I laugh and scatter the pieces of my heart?
That happiness is given equally to all let us not pretend
Unchecked the tears flow, the eyes beg them to stop
He is not a true drunk who to mere alcohol will bend
The days are sinking, my boat of dreams is drowned
The shores they are unmoved, no grief do they expend
Note on the trans-creation: In this version I have focused on being faithful to the original form of the poem. Mostly, I am of the opinion that the ghazal and nazm forms don’t sound natural in English and prefer to do translations which are free flowing and do justice to the rhythm and the emotional timbre of the piece under consideration.
Since You Ask
Puchhte Ho Toh Suno
If you really want to know how I live
Then listen, I’ll tell you how it is
Every night I am a mendicant for sleep
Till dawn tosses a few alms at me
Simply to breathe is not to live, my friend
The heart is in pain, the sleeve is wet
Dreams, like shattered glass, glitter
In my always wide open eyes
If you must know, then know
This is how the lovelorn spend their nights
Grief is my enemy, yet grief I always seek
Even a moment’s separation seems an eternity
I am an essence in search of its centre
Am I at the end or have I just begun?
If you really want to know how I live
Then listen, I’ll tell you how it is
Every night I am a mendicant for sleep
Till dawn tosses a few alms at me
Simply to breathe is not to live, my friend
The heart is in pain, the sleeve is wet
Dreams, like shattered glass, glitter
In my always wide open eyes
If you must know, then know
This is how the lovelorn spend their nights
Grief is my enemy, yet grief I always seek
Even a moment’s separation seems an eternity
I am an essence in search of its centre
Am I at the end or have I just begun?
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Broken Days, Scattered Nights
Tukre Tukre Din Biitaa
Fractured days, nights in shreds
That was all that was given to me
For each receives in accordance
To the size of their plea
When I try to understand myself
I hear a laugh taunting me
“Don’t even begin to try
You are sure to lose again”
What is loss, what defeat when
We must each live out the allotted hours
I found at last a partner after my heart
But alas, his heart was restless too
Note on the trans-creation: “For each receives in accordance/ To the size of their plea” is really a very poor translation of “jiska jitna aanchal tha usko utni hee suagaat milee”. Aanchal is the fold of the sari or skirt stretched out to receive alms or benediction. Some images are so culture specific that to try and capture them in another language is to render them false.
Fractured days, nights in shreds
That was all that was given to me
For each receives in accordance
To the size of their plea
When I try to understand myself
I hear a laugh taunting me
“Don’t even begin to try
You are sure to lose again”
What is loss, what defeat when
We must each live out the allotted hours
I found at last a partner after my heart
But alas, his heart was restless too
Note on the trans-creation: “For each receives in accordance/ To the size of their plea” is really a very poor translation of “jiska jitna aanchal tha usko utni hee suagaat milee”. Aanchal is the fold of the sari or skirt stretched out to receive alms or benediction. Some images are so culture specific that to try and capture them in another language is to render them false.
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