ধারাবাহিক ।। সাহিত্যে সেতুবন্ধন (পঞ্চম অংশ) ।। রণেশ রায়

কবিতায় সাংস্কৃতিক সেতুবন্ধন

(পঞ্চম অংশ )

রণেশ রায়

কবিতার মাধ্যমে দেশ ও বিদেশে দুটি ভাষার জনগোষ্ঠীর মধ্যে সাংস্কৃতিক মেলবন্ধন ঘটে। আর সেটা ঘটাতে বিশেষ সাহায্য করে অনুবাদ কবিতা ও দ্বিভাষিক কবিতা। উল্লেখযোগ্য যে পৃথিবীর বিভিন্ন দেশের বিভিন্ন ভাষায় লেখা কবিতা ইংরেজিতে অনুবাদ করা হয়েছে। আমরা ইংরেজি অনুবাদ ধরে আবার বাংলায় তা অনুবাদ করেছি।ইংরেজি কবিতার বাংলায় অনুবাদ বিদেশী বিভিন্ন ভাষার কবিতা আর কবিদের সঙ্গে বাংলা ভাষাভাষী মানুষদের পরিচয় করিয়ে দেয় যেমন আমরা ওপরের অনুবাদ কবিতায় দেখেছি। আমরা পরিচিত হয়েছি ইংরেজ ফরাসি স্পেন তুর্কি প্রভৃতি দেশের কবি ও কবিতার সঙ্গে। আবার নীচে বাংলা থেকে ইংরেজিতে অনুবাদ করা কবিতার মাধ্যমে ভিন দেশের মানুষের সঙ্গে বাংলার কবি সাহিত্যিকদের পরিচয় করিয়ে দিতে সচেষ্ট হয়েছি। শুধু কবিতা নয় ভিন দেশের মানুষের জীবন যাপন তাঁদের ঐতিহাসিক অগ্রগমন সম্পর্কে যেমন ওয়াকিবহাল হয়েছি তেমনি বাংলার মানুষ তাঁদের জীবন যাপনকে বিদেশের মাটিতে পৌঁছে দিতে চেষ্টা করেছি যা কার্যত ভিন্ন ভিন্ন জাতি গোষ্ঠীর মধ্যে সাংস্কৃতিক সেতুবন্ধন ঘটায়।

ইংরেজিতে কিছু বাংলা কবিতার অনুবাদ করতে চেষ্টা করেছি রবীন্দ্রনাথ জীবনানন্দ আর আজকের দুই একজনের কবিতা ধরে। সেগুলোর কয়েকটা নিচে রাখলাম আমার অনুবাদ কবিতার চর্চাকে সাজিয়ে তুলতে।

রামায়ন মহাভারতের মত প্রাচীন যুগের সাহিত্যে সেই সমাজের ধর্ম বিশ্বাসকে কেন্দ্র করে সাহিত্যিকের মনন অনুযায়ী এক কল্পকথার সৃষ্টি হয়। এক metaphor বা রূপক তৈরি হয় যা অনেক সময় বাস্তব বর্জিত। হয়ে ওঠে শোষক সম্প্রদায়কে মহিমান্বিত করার হাতিয়ার। আজ যুক্তিবাদের যুগে সেটাকে অস্বীকার করা হয়। সৃষ্ট চরিত্রকে ভিন্ন ব্যঞ্জনায় তুলে ধরা হয়। যেমন কবি মধুসূদন রাম বা রাবণের চরিত্র নিয়ে মেঘনাদবধের মত  নতুন ধরনের মহাকাব্য সৃষ্টি করেছেন। কবি সব্যসাচী দেব  তাঁর 'কৃষ্ণা' কবিতায় সে সমাজে দ্রৌপদীকে নির্যাতিতা নারী হিসেবে তুলে ধরেছেন, তাকে রূপক হিসেবে ব্যবহার করে দেখিয়েছেন আজকের আমাদের  পুরুষ প্রধান সমাজে নারীদের একই অবস্হা। সেই দ্রৌপদী  আজ ঘরে ঘরে নারীর প্রতীক কৃষ্ণা। আধুনিক কবিতার আঙ্গিকে কবিতাটি অসাধারণ হয়ে উঠেছে।এই ধরনের কবিতায় আদিম ক্ষয় প্রাপ্ত সমাজের ধর্ম বিশ্বাস সেই সমাজের প্রথা আচার আচরণকে বিরোধিতা করে কবির কবিতায় একধরনের শ্লেষ প্রকাশ পায় যা কবিতাকে একটা অন্য মাত্রা দেয়।

বন্ধুবর রবিন মজুমদার তাঁর 'হাঁটিতেছি যুগ ও যোজন' কবিতাটি নতুন আঙ্গিক ও ভাবে সাজিয়ে তুলেছেন নিপুণ কাব্য গুণে। প্রাচীন যুগ থেকে আজ পর্যন্ত সৃষ্টির অগ্রগমনে শ্রমজীবী মানুষের ভূমিকা তুলে ধরা হয়েছে।অথচ তারাই শোষিত বঞ্চিত। 

ক্যামেলিয়া বা হঠাৎ দেখা কবিতায় রবীন্দ্রনাথ আধুনিক গদ্য কবিতার আঙ্গিকে প্রেম বিরহ কাহিনী বর্ণনা করেছেন যা আধুনিক গদ্য কবিতার সূত্রপাত ঘটায়।

জীবানন্দ দাশ তাঁর নিজস্ব আঙ্গিকে রূপকের মাধ্যমে বিমূর্ত ভাবে কোন একটা ঘটনাকে মুহূর্তের ঝলকানিতে  তুলে ধরেছেন,কিছু একটার যেন বিচ্ছুরণ ঘটে তাঁর কবিতায়। 

আমি উনাদের কয়েকটা কবিতার ইংরেজি অনুবাদের চেষ্টা করেছি যা নিচে আমার আলোচনার অঙ্গীভূত করলাম।

(Transliterate version in English 

of the original Bengali poem Krishna by Sabyasachi Deb)

Krishna

Oh!  Kauravas, my salute to you all,

I do not mourn neither I grief

Your silence does not annoy me.

Grandfather, Veeshma, pardon me,

I am not in myself to bow to you

 Neither to let you know my gratitude 

And you Karna, my hatred for you blooms full.

Oh ! my dears, husbands five,

Arjuna, the bravest of braves,

Mighty Veem, Nakul, Sahadev

And the great sanctimonious Yudhishthira

I bow down to your feet,

My salute to all of you.

I am not omniscient, know little,

Born from the fire of oblation, 

Your destination path

Not in my vision to walk;

 It is an audacity for me,

Husband  Yudhishthira ,

To shed judgment on you.

You have no perversion

Righteousness is your savior,

Remained always religious

Sin could never touch you,

Be grateful to your God.

Bheemshen, I loved you not

So, expect no reciprocation from you.

My only question to you, 

the beauty of beauties,

My dearest husband, Arjuna, the loveliest,

Was Duryadhan's chest more a difficult target

Than the shadow of the eye of the fish up above

Under the water beneath,

Tell me the truth, it is not love

It was your pride of virility that you were after,

Winning Panchali was only the pretext.

I know, it is my question in vain,

You do not have an answer to it

As you have no heart for love.

Since your childhood

You have only high aspiration

Bravo's lust for earth and the fairies, 

You, the worshiper of beauty;

Your greed for power empowered you

with the only motto,

To deprive Kauravas of their heredity right, 

To grab power from Dhritarashtra,

You are only provoked for the best

Made available in the land;

My Arya, the great,

 Your only vision is the beauty of the virgin 

Lust for her, 

You, the greedy Dhananjoy,

You often change your focus

From one lady to another 

Like your predecessors,

Used to move from one forest to other

To hunt new pasturage.

In this gathering today

 I have come to know------

A woman is only 

The associate of greed and lust 

For a few hours for a man.

All we, the garland of gems, 

Thousands of maids,

Ivory of the elephant,

The horses sent for travel 

And me,

 The daughter-in-law of King Pandu,

We all stand on the same rope in wait;

The same scenario that I witnessed

In my father's land,

The traders of greed and lust

 Used to bring with them the food

Long queue of the starved with greedy look,

They all were 

The close relation of my husband.

Today we are being sold out

Those who are gifting us out,

They establish their right 

By taking oath to protect us,

Bind me and us in ritual, 

The holly thread binds us

In the heart of love.

Not only in this lust blooded house

Much before I was made known

I have to disown my desire

I should have no wisdom of mine;

Arjuna, with my first sight

I offered my heart to you,

But the big brother, 

lion heart, the religious fame,

Was the first to embrace my body.

When water

 From the new-year  flown down

From the minar of heaven

My heart cried for you

But my urge was denied

Someone else whom I did not desire

Used to take me away-----

You longed not for me but someone else.

I have nothing to pray, nothing to beg

The elderlies of Kurus

May repent in vain

The big brother of Pandavas 

May wait for a holy hour,

The reign of religion

To be founded on the  earth------

You Bheem, please keep mum

Nakul Sahadev  

Kept utmost faith on the elderlies,

And Arjuna go inside the house

Your lover must be waiting

To be groomed in bed.

No grief no shame, in this palace

I only know, it is not love nor right

Women are made only to meet the need

And I realized no difference is there

Between the religious 

Yudhisthira and the mighty Bheem

Between the lover Arjuna

And greedy sons of Dhritarashtra.

I don't demand justice

No remedy I hanker for,

The luxury garments

If Dushashan snatches it away

May plunder it, I do not cry.

The beasts are dancing round 

On the board of immersion,

I do not look at it.

I am not hearing the sound of cry 

It is the fearless cry

Of the unworthy and the powerless,

No bow and arrow

I bring back the memory of my birth,

 The fire of oblation.

I am not Draupadi nor I am Panchali

Am I only the chosen bride 

Bride of the Bharat lineage -------

I am Krishnaa, 

A tribute in the worship, a woman.

Bengali Poem of Jibanananda Das,

Banalata Sen,  translated 

Banalata Sen

I walk and walk along

I have been traveling since

Thousand of years 

Along the path of earth I trudged

In the cloudy night 

along the flow of time

I made the journey 

From Singhal ocean 

To the dark night  of  Malay sea;

I have travelled a lot too,

I had been in Bimbisar

The gray regime of Asoka,

In the city of Vidarbha.

Became tired to breathe

Around me danced the foam of sea

Raised her head from beneath

My weary soul got a moment's respite 

At the behest of Banalata Sen.

Her hair is deep dark black

 Midnight darkness of age-old Bidisha,

Her face, a sculpture of Sravasti,

In a distant sea

A sailor who broke his rudder

 Saw the island of green grass

In the fronds of cinnamon

So I saw her, Banalata Sen of Natore.

 In the dark, raising her eyes in shy

Like the nest of  birds,

She whispered to me,

Murmuring me the song,

"Where had you been so long"?

On the wing of Eagle

The golden sunray

Disappears in darkness.

As time passes by

Light shades down

Evening approaches

Like the sound of dripping dew drop,

 At the end of the day

As the darkness descends

 Like whispering dews 

When all the shades of life disappear

It is Deep Dark

Manuscript of life that tells us the story

Story of abandoned life where

Fireflies twinkle in  spark,

When all the birds fly  back to nest

--- All the rivers stagnated----

All the transactions of life are closed

Behind the curtain of life,

Face to face I  and,

None but Banalata Sen of Natore.

Translated version of the Bengali poem 'Suchetana' of Jibanananda Das

Suchetana 

Suchetana, to the stars in the eve

When the sun tilts to the West,

You are an island, far away;

There in the shadow of Cinnamon forest,

Silence prevails quiet;

In this world, success is blood bathed in war,

It is true, but it is not the last spell of life;

One day Kolkata will be turned fairy lady

The beautiest of all beauties;

Still my heart longs for you.

Today my crying heart 

Loiters under the scorching Sun,

When I offer my love to the humanity

Being a human being,

I discover myself as one

In the hand of whom

nears and dears die, 

On the floor they  lie;

The world today is in deep  catastrophe,

Still man remains indebted to this earth.

Ship anchors at the port under the shining sun 

To unload the crop brought for transaction,

The crop stands for innumerable Corpse,

The accumulated gold that originates from the crop,

We remain stunned like our father

And predecessor Confucius;

Still to shade blood in labour is the call of the hour.

Suchetana, the light of life is to be lit

This is the path to march forward 

The world to be liberated through this path

But it will take a millennium

It is  the task of many a learned in far future;

How pleasant and bright is the wind

That flows in sunshine,

Human society is as pure as that;

In the hand of tired yet tireless soldiers

The beacon of new world will be lighted

In the far end horizon of a morning;

Felt an urge to take birth in this earth, 

It would be better if not, often I think,

But realize I, it is so graceful to take the birth;

My body could take the bath of dew drop

In this shining morning that dawned,

In the heart of eternal night

Morning dawns in the sky.

Translated version, 

 Nirjon Sakshor written by 

Jibananda Das

Silent Consent 

You know not, may know not,

But know it now

All the songs that I sing long for you,

When I am exuded in winter wind

Will you take me on your wing

Like leaves  that spilled on the earth?

Will you bloom in deep sleep?

Will your edge of life not be  blunted?

The dew  was stored in my heart 

Was it the only  desire of you  ?

Could only its taste bring you peace !

It will be spilled down, still life remains abundant 

It will keep you held in the earth,

Still all my songs ponder for you.

I remain lying on grass in greenfield 

Clouds spread over the sky

Blue all across the horizon. 

Does the colours of life bloom?

It is a surprise,

In the earth it does not,

In the sky it finds no ground,

Ocean waves do not know her.

In the shadow of galaxy

I walk along the stars

In search of her

But her I do not find.

The desire that remains alive

Deep within the heart of a man,

For her whom he longs for

Silently more calm than the star

It is a prolonged wait  for her.

Prophet in life comes

Speaks of vision and mission,

But forgets his oath---- 

Becomes speechless in no time.

The fire that lights his eyes

extinguishes over time.

Spills like leaves of a tree in autumn,

With the exit of the outgoing stars

Morning Dawns to welcome the new,

But the love that I nursed in my hurt

I preserved for her as a priest of love,

Do l still long for that?

Yes I am that priest

The priest whose body

Feels the touch of icy/ freezing cold,

The frigid heart of the star

The star that expired.

You remain awakened

You share the feeling of the sky

The sky that is burning,

You have come to know with certainty

Certainty of the fact  that fires extinguish

Under the burning sky,

Present becomes pain-stricken past

Still you do not feel trembling in chilly winter

The frozen body of expired star

The star that remains awakened.

The earth, the sky is yours

You enjoy the taste of  life,

But you carry the virus 

Do not feel the pain of the past.

Warmth You remain  in the sky within you

But the star is in decay in the cold of outer space

The tiring heart is spilled like a  star

It sounds like dew drop in the late night

You do not get its taste

Life keeps you in its fold

It is life unbounded.

In the wind of winter when I am exuded

Like leaves on the path

You too will lie on my chest

Will you be bloomed/ saturated in deep sleep?

Will  your edge of life not be  blunted?

The dew  was stored in my heart that day

Was it the only  desire of you?

Could only its taste bring you peace!

I will be exuded, still life remains unbounded

It will hold you in the earth

Still all my songs long for you. 

English version of the poem Akashlina

Written by Jibanananda Das

 Translated by Ranesh Roy

Come Back, Suranjana

Suranjana, don't leave, don't go there, 

Please, don't talk to that young stranger, 

In this scorching night, under silvery sky,

Return to this meadow, to the wave high.

Come back to my weary heart,

Don't drift further away,

Don't go with that young lad.

What secrets do you share with him,

Behind the cartoon of sky?

Like the earth, you're precious,

Love is but fragile grass today.

Suranjana, your heart is tender grass,

Air within air, sky beyond sky.

 

Walked All The Way

Translated Version of a bengali poem 

 'Hatitechhi Yug o Yojan'

Written by Rabin Majumbar

Part 1

Since time immemorial  I walked and walked,

Walked  along the landscape of India

For five thousand years I walked  on,

Many a noisy inhabitants and rivulets I crossed over

Along the Mahogany woods I passed through

History of this golden land  I traveled by.

With tiredness, fatigue  brought down the body,

Far down the thorny path I desired to visit 

Arshinagar on the banks of Saraju and Gomoti

To get  the affection of my  mother 

and to meet my  beloved  dear,

I turned to innumerable stars in the sky.

I wanted nothing but a small desire only, 

Desire to be embraced by the roaring sea,

And the warmth of a bowl of rice.

I am not a father nor am I a son

I am not a spouse nor a young lover

I am not a mother nor a daughter

I am not a fairy in youth

Not a man or women I am

I am only an endless traveler

No grace ,  no succour in my life

Have only the diligence to work.

Smell of perspiration in my whole body

Even the lady of Clove island turned her face back,

The peace of the cottage in dark

Offered me the warmth of a bowl of rice.

Generously I gift  away my labour

With my labour many minars are built.

My labour is the architect of great sculptures,

Palaces, Castles, Ballrooms, 

Haveli seraglio,

Churches Temples Mosques are built,

My labour is the creator of all,

Smell of blood and sweat is entwined 

In the works of Ajanta, Elora

 In the Mausoleum in Tajmahal,

My labour is embodied in

The learning institutions,

 Takshashila and Nalanda, 

The self propagated Great,

For Self left only the warmth of a bowl  of rice

Camellia

Kamala, by name, she is,

Written distinctly in her notebook,

I saw while traveling by tram----

On my way to office, she to college.

Incidentally, we shared the same tram,

I sat behind her, at a corner.

The wait seemed prolonged,

Her presence stirred within me.

Stray hairs framed her shoulder,

Books and papers lay on her lap.

My destination arrived, I departed,

Unable to disembark where I wished.

Since then, I adjusted my schedule,

Not by work hours, but her college calendar,

Making me a regular co-traveler.

What harm is there, I wonder,

Even if nothing binds us?

She's my co-passenger, after all.

Dark black hair frames her intelligent face,

Tearful black eyes shine bright.

I wish for a mishap,

To prove my heroism.

But my life's a shallow muddy pond,

No memorable events occur,

Only monotonous croaks,

No sharks or alligators.

One day, a crowd gathered,

An Indian Englishman sat beside Kamala.

Blood rushed to my brain,

I wanted to knock off his hat.

He lit a costly cigar,

I ordered, "Stop smoking!"

Undeterred, he blew smoke rings,

I snatched the cigar, threw it out.

Recognizing me, a renowned footballer,

He leapt off the tram.

Kamala's face turned reddish,

She ignored the hero.

The crowd cheered, "Well done!"

She exited before her stop,

Took a taxi to college.

For two days, she wasn't seen,

Then, I spotted her in a rickshaw.

Heartbroken, I realized my foolishness,

Recognized her capability,

Unlike other Bengali girls,

She needed no help.

My heroism memory reminded me,

"My life's a shallow muddy pond..."

I decided to amend.

Informed they'd vacation in Darjeeling,

I urgently needed a break.

In Motia, they stayed in a cottage,

Behind a forest tree.

Unfortunate, they weren't visiting,

I decided to return.

Visiting fan Lalmahan,

Due to poor health.

Mahanlal requested I meet Tanuka,

My fan, eager to meet.

A non-existent being,

Bookworm, unaware.

With two days left for my return to home

Tanuka wished and said,

''A presentation I will give you 

To keep me in your memory,

A flower bud, a blooming plant.''

What a bother, I remained speechless.

Tanuka in utter wisdom to said,

"It is an invaluable plant

Requires a lot of care to grow and blossom".

"What is the name'' I enquired,

"It is named Camellia'', she said.

In my darkhole of heart a name sounded

It flashed in my memory in no time.

With a smile in my face I uttered,

'' Winning over her heart is difficult !''

Not known what it meant to Tanuka,

She must have felt embarrassed

But at the same time pleased too.

I set off to return with the plant in a tub.

Soon it appeared that it's not a friendly, 

Not a good co-passenger In the compartment.

I kept it hidden in the toilet.

Not much to talk about the rest of the journey. 

The monotony of the months to follow ----

The days were mere days without event.

In a small village of tribals at the far corner

Unfolded  the story, the curtain unveiled----

It was the autumn vacation

The land remained unvisited by the usual visitors 

The name remained unrevealed.

Kamala's uncle, an engineer, settled

In the shadow of swaal wood, the village of squirrels,

On the horizon a blue mountain was visible

There flowed a stream on a bed of sand.

Silkworm was grown in the Palash forest

In the shadow of the trees oxen loitered around

Unclothed tribal children rode on their backs.

No homes were found nearby,

So I put up my tent there ,

I had no associate but the camellia---

Growing in its tub.

Kamala had come with her mother.

The overhead sun had not brightened till then,

Cold breeze blew over dew wet morning, 

She walked along the swaal forest with umbrella in hand.

At her feet loitered the wild flowers in prayer,

She walked indifferently not even glancing at them.

She waded forward through knee deep water

Crosses the stream to  reach the other end,

Sat beneath a tree to read

It appeared obvious that she has noticed me

But she spared no attention to me.

In one noon they were seen crowded

Enjoying a picnic on the sandbank.

I felt an urge to ask

Am I not useful to you in any job,

From the stream I can fetch water

Can collect firewood from the forest.

Apart a decent bear at least

Maybe a bear would at least appear in the forest.

A young man in the group I noticed

Wearing a short pant and a silk shirt 

Remained seated by Kamala 

Bare legs kept outstretched,

Smoke blowing from a Havana cigar.

Unmindfully  Kamala was shredding the petals of a white। hibiscus

A monthly issue of English magazine

Lying neglected of the ground.

In no time I realized

In this abandoned desolate corner of the earth,

In the tribal village

I was an unsuitable guy, unwanted and redundant.

I had to leave but had a last task to complete---

A few days left for the camellia to blossom, 

I will be set free but only after sending it to her.

With my gun on  my shoulder, I wandered along the forest,

To water the plant, I returned at dusk

Checked the growth of the bud in the tub.

At last the time was riped for the bud to bloom fully,

I gave a call to the tribal girl

Who used to collect firewood for me,

In a leafy box

I decided to send her a full bloomed camellia.

A detective novel I was reading with full attention

Suddenly a sweet melodious voice drew my notice,

''You called me ?'' the voice sang

I came out from the tent to see,

The camellia bloomed behind her ear 

Her dark-skinned face was brightened up 

With a graceful smile of  wonder.

Asked me further, ''Why are you calling me?''

''Just for this'' I answered.

Now it is time for me to journey back.

 In dedication to Tagore's Hothat Dekha

Met in Surprise

On the pathway of our life

In a train compartment

A sudden meet with her

That could not be thought of.

On the  opposite bench she is seated

Encircled by her admirers.

A prolonged wait and then

The auspicious moment for us !

I am in two minds to be surprised.

 

Earlier she would come

Adorned a soft green leaflike colour

Like a drop of dew resting on tender grass

As it shines bright in the morn

Waiting to evaporate

And fly up to the sun in embracement.

Today she is wearing black

 With a white thread embroidery

Her face shows up clearly

So distinctive in its wisdom and age

As if a mountain of credence

A credence that speaks of her

Till the fag end of her life.

 

I remain silent uncertain

Doubtful whether she would recognise me

Embarrassed am I, ashamed to look at her.

Better to remain silent;

Silence is the best cure

For the wound that has been oozing

Oozing all its life

For the wound to be healed

It is only silence that can help.

I turn the pages of memory

Churning the ocean of my oblivion

The colourful evenings of youth

The story of our past.

 My mind stirs,

We walked along the road

In a park lonely we chatted together

Under the scorching sun we were sun bathed

Painted our future in imagination

We sculptured the breeze of sand on sandshore-----

And then? 

Two paths moved to different destinations.

 

It seems, she has seen me

But in the gesture of unknownness-----

She cares for me little today !

Though seated face to face,

She wishes to keep herself hidden in light and shade

Under the cover of a mystery.

 

Never really could I know her,

Her end journey not known to me,

The station where she would disembark a mystery.

Yet a curiosity entangles me

The curiosity that adorns her saree.

In the wetted dew of the morning leaf

In the blue of the sky,  my desire disappears,

But my curiosity remains

In that  mysterious forest which I call my  life.

 

Stations one after the other pass by

Both we keep mum, neither speaks

Unworried appears she 

But worry engulfs me.

 

It is my time to be dropped

Is the venture then to remain fruitless ?

The old pain revisits, I die in pain

As It starts oozing again.

Suddenly she shook her fingers

Signaled me to come by,

I got surprised to see her audacity.

However, I came close to sit beside her.

Under the cover of the noise of the train,

She asked me in low voice,

''Do not mind,

Not much time is left to spare,

I have to be dropped next station,

You will go further

Will meet no more;

Want to know the answer from you

That remained unanswered,

Will you be truthful to answer''?

I said, '' Yes, I will ''

Guessing out to the sky, she asked,

'' The days left behind have all gone,

Nothing left any more''?

For a while it kept me mum,

Then I was prompt to say,

''All the stars of night are awake

Behind the shining light of the day''.

I got stunned and doubtful,

Wondering for a moment if I lied.

She said, ''go back to your place''

They all they dropped down at next station,

I remained alone to travel by.

Engish translation of Ranesh Roy'Ray's poem 

লাশ কাটা ঘর 

Last Rite

It is a day in the month of May,

A burnout summer midnight,

I am in fray,

Got completely wetted in burn.

Rose early in the morning,

Face to face with the Sun,

I walked and walked,

Travelled past Kasari para.

In a roadside bush,

Took a cup of tea,

Again started walking,

Walked for an hour,

To meet the Esplanade crossing.

From there, reached Harkata.

The lane took a turn,

Above my head, clouded sky,

The question haunted me:

Where is the tree

That kept her head high?

The room remains crowded in daytime,

Filled with friends and kins.

At night, traders of flesh visit,

Take shelter in the room.

Today, the shelter has disappeared,

In the thunderstorm last night,

Uprooted the tree on the street.

An owl on the top of a tree

Cries in the morning,

The eagle in the sky flies free,

A message it bears.

The wind blows fast,

A smell flows in the air,

The sky is overcast,

It is lonely all over,

None found nearby.

I just stepped forward a few steps,

Surprised to see her hanging in the room,

The beasts had their usual visit to her

In the room last night.

What led to the homicide?

Did she not want to carry the life?

Was there something difficult to bear?

Was she not in love with someone?

Was she not in tears

To be abandoned here,

Just to get two square meals

For her family dears,

To meet their hunger?

She gave birth to her child,

Paternity remains unknown.

At the holy moment of birth,

Did not the child

Keep his head on her breast,

Acknowledge his mother?

Was not mother with her affection

Painted the child in colour?

She used to spend her hectic nights,

Abandoned alone to pass her day,

With the customers to whom

She was saleable clay.

In the morning, when the sun rises,

She walked forward in the procession,

On demand for her right,

New morning is awaited to be dawn,

But today, is it what she deserves?

One who was in love with her

Could not speak out,

Under the eyebrow of society,

In secret, today he cries out.

He dared not to reach her door,

Credit and debit of life

Remained unaccounted for.

Police rushed to the room,

Will take her body to the morgue,

Mosquito flies and insects

All mourn in deep grief,

With tears in eyes,

They bid bye to her.

Cockroach kisses her,

The mosquito warns,

"Don't get trapped,

Take the struggle on,"

The insects chant,

In the sky, sings the bird,

"She is in sleep,

In eternal peace,

Not to disturb her,

We remain in guard,

Hand in hand,

To march forward."

She immensely loved human beings,

Her affection touched child hearts,

She was duty-bound,

But alas!

Her last rite

In the morgue,

She is in eternal peace,

She sleeps forever.

After settling all accounts,

She remains asleep,

She is freed from all bondage,

Beasts are in mask,

Today,

She belongs to nobody,

She cares for none.

Land is wetted in shy,

She is now on her path,

Sows the seed of flower to bloom,

She is not here today,

But still she lives,

She lives in the oath,

To take the struggle to the end,

The work remains to be completed,

At the end of the dark night,

New morning to blossom,

With the dawn of the Sun.

They will not buy her in the honey night,

By drumming the drum of money,

In the beacon of life twinkles the light.

Translated version of Tagor's

Anonto Prem

 

Eternal Love

I 

Eternal Love

I loved you once and again,

For ages together I loved you,

In hundreds of ways, in times again ,

Endless times I loved you,

For ages together, from one birth to another,

I loved you, I loved you again and again.

My heart remained spellbound,

Spent the whole life

To wreath a garland of songs,

A necklace of songs threaded,

A gift that embraces you by the neck,

To bloom you to beauty.

The more I hear the classics,

Age-old past tales,

Tales of painful love,

Tales of being apart and together,

Joy and sorrow of the far past,

I blossom in flower.

As I stare back into my past,

Your image stands before me,

In guise of the Northern Star,

Ever alert in my memory,

We float together in the stream of twin love,

To swamp to the shore.

It pierces through the darkness of midnight,

The Sun dawns in the sky of my heart,

In my memory, you live forever.

We have flown down together

From the fountain top,

Along the stream of our dual love,

Originated from the heart of eternal past.

Among crores of lovers,

We play together

In the ocean of tear and love,

Tear of tragedy and the joy of comedy,

Past love rejuvenated in new color,

In an anew voice of joy and sorrow,

In the tear of union and depart,

I love you, love you, the eternal love.

Today, the love of everyday

Has come to an end,

It has bowed down at your feet.

The joy of the world,

Sorrow of life,

Swayed with that eternal love,

A love for humanity has been sung,

The song of all the poets,

The poets of all time,

Merged in the shore of a river,

Dissolving in one universe.

Jodi Tor Dak Shune Keu Na Ase, Tagore

Translated version in English

Even If Nobody Responds

If left alone, 

Nobody responds to your call

Don't stop, dare to walk

Do not fall,

Stop not halfway 

Walk and walk alone

Even if others turn away

They do not speak out

Do not close yourself

Don't be in doubt,

Speak to thyself

Keep open your eyes

Bare your heart full of love

Speak to your mind 

Just dare to walk 

Walk and walk alone;

If the road is thorny

Others fall back in fear

You do not stop

Do not shed your tear 

Oh! My dear

The child of the misfortune

Move forward

Though it oozes from the wound

Do not look backward

Walk and walk walk alone.

Translated version, 

Dinodan by Tagore

God of the Poor

Translated by Ranesh Roy

"The God has emptied the temple"             

Uttered the Saint

It enraged the king to say,

"Like an atheist you are speaking,

Oh! The priest,

Are you not seeing the God

Sitting on the throne

Ornamented in priceless gems?

The gold idol is built in the temple

Still you bullish it as empty"!

"It is not empty, God emptied himself

It is only your false pride 

That you endorse to bestow yourself.

The God has left you, oh the king"

Calmly replied the saint.

The king got annoyed to say,

"Don't you know

Two million gold coin

Embedded in the superstructure

That embraced the heaven,

The holy rituals are performed

To dedicate myself  to God.

How do you dare to say,

God is not there in the temple".

The Saint remained unperturbed,

He said, " Twenty million of poor

Are ruined in draught and famine

In the very year

When you built the lopsided temple,

How do you expect

The kind hearted  God

To take a seat on the throne

That endures your false pride?

God has heard the cry of the poor,

The shelterless and the starved.  

They begged to you for help

But you refused,

They had to seek shelter

In forest, cave and roadside path

In the deserted temple.

Just when your gorgeous 

temple was built

Just then the kind hearted

God declared,

'My sacred holy home is lighted

By the illuminating showers and lamps

Destroyed the ethics

 of enduring life

Truth, Peace, Faith and Love,

Lost sight behind 

the darkness of thou pride.

Do you expect  me 

to be with you

Who cannot provide shelter

to my children,

How can you fancy

to give me home'.

He abandoned your temple

on that day

He lives under the tree of the roadside

With his deserted children

Your temple the false pride of you 

It is hollow, left deserted by All Mighty''.

The king outraged to shout

"You, the stupid,

Immediately leave my kingdom

Or you will be hanged to death"

The saint replied,

" Where you deserted the devouts

Exile this devotee of the Lord to them"

The saint nodded

his head in silence.

Translated version of a Hindi poem

By Swati Kochchhar

The Anthem of Death

It is restless crematory

Fire burns day and night

Smoke spirals up to the sky

A body is in eternal sleep

Man searches what flows in the spiral

He wants to realise in his consent

How with a sudden spark

Lights off the beacon of life

He tries to know

How under whose rage

A living being passes away

In this inauspicious moment of life.

On arrival of winter

Birds return to nest

They sing no more

With heart beating cry of cold

Dry leaves of tree fall

Fuel adds to the fire

Fear embraces

The hard reality speaks to him

the anthem of death floats in the air.

Translated version of 'Bhalo Manusher Bhabna' written by Suresh Das

The Thought of a gentleman 

The sky sees all, hears all from above

But does not speak, remains quiet, 

Keeps silence that l long for.

The sky roars, bolts from the blue,

Light the fire, bursts into anger,

But I remain silent

  Aspire for the calmness of a tree.

She too protests on the face of storm

Nods her head; to and fro

 Her branches and leaves are torn

Still she desires to stand straight and firm.

Blind me, take away my vision,

No more I will  be able to see 

Will lose sight of my mission

That is safest for me.

But remember there is another vision

That remains hidden within me;

In one morning, 

The wind is about to storm thunder,

Awakens my vision within  

Whispers to me silently,

Once and  once only

Do not get frightened

Be like the tree, then look up,

The face of the sky is brightened

Shines in the ray of the Sun.