Translations (Was Re: Rkkulu ) - 1 of ?
Uday Bhaskar
>
> I think Uday's translation sets the bar very high .. hats off sir!
>
> - Sreenadh
Thanks for your kind words, Sreenadh. As Satya said, I had the
advantage of doing away with the rhyming pattern that SrISrI
followed, and so it was a lot easier for me.
On this note, I wanted to take this discussion back to the original
issue, that is whether or not Telugu literature is "world class", and
if so, is translation the only means of preserving it.
My own definition of "world class" is relative. If one were to draw a
Venn diagram of poetry lovers, the set of admirers for even the most
loved poem in the world will only be a very small subset of the
universal set. So does that make Shakespeare's sonnets or Lorca's
cantos any more or any less "world class" than say vaMgapaMDu
prasAd's "బుగతోడు గూడు బండి" or naMDUri's ముద్దుల నా యెంకి?
To illustrate my point, I will give some examples of poems that are
considered "world class", followed by poems that I consider
equally "world class".
"World Class Poem No.1."
"Saddest Poem"
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."
The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.
To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.
What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.
That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.
As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.
The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.
I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.
Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.
Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.
Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.
"My Choice No. 1"
"ఆకు రాలు కాలం"
అతనెప్పుడూ అంతే
ఒంటరిగా రమ్మంటే వసంతాన్ని వెంట తెస్తాడు
ఆరుబయట ఆకుల నిశ్శబ్దంలో
చెట్లు కవాతు చేస్తున్నాయి
ఆ సెలయేటి నీళ్ళలో
ఆకాశ చిత్రం ఘనీభవించింది
చుక్కలు కరిగి రాలుతున్న దృశ్యం
లీలగా గుర్తుంది
వద్దు ...
నాకు వెన్నెలా వద్దు, పున్నమీ వద్దు
సూర్యుడొక్కడు చాలు
అతని నిరీక్షణలో ఈ నల్లని రాత్రి అలా గడవనీ ...
అతనెప్పుడూ అంతే
వస్తూ వస్తూ పక్షుల పాటల్ని వెంట తెస్తాడు
అతని సమక్షంలో
పోగొట్టుకున్న నా బాల్యం తిరిగి ప్రవహిస్తుంది
శరీరం అనుభవాల పాఠశాల అవుతుంది
నేను అతని గుండెలో దాక్కుని పడుకుంటాను
ఝాము రాత్రి
నిర్దాక్షిణ్యంగా నన్ను లేపి
మంజీరనాదాల్ని తూటాలు వేటాడిన వైనం చెబుతాడు
అప్పుడు
భయంగా అతన్ని నా గుండెల్లో దాచుకుంటాను
అతనిప్పుడు లేడు
ఈ మధ్య అర్థాంతరంగా వచ్చిన
ఆకురాలే కాలానికి ఎక్కడ రాలిపడ్డాడో?
Both poems deal with love and loss of the loved one, both describe
the anguish of that loss, both invoke the images of the night, the
stars, and the stillness of the trees to bring to us the agony of
that heartache.
I could have translated the second poem, but wanted every one to
appreciate the beauty of the original. Also, the tenderness of love
and loss knows no language barriers. The first poem was originally
written in Spanish and then translated into English.
The second, to me, in some sense is more powerful, as the loss here
is not simply a loss to some one else, but the loss of a loved one
who dies for a cause. Look at the tender transformation of who
protects whom in the second last stanza (from "నేను అతని గుండెల్లో
దాక్కుని పడుకుంటాను" to "భయంగా అతన్ని నా గుండెల్లో దాచుకుంటాను").
More to come soon.
Regards,
Uday
Courtesy: http://www.kanneganti.com/
Uday Bhaskar
> "My Choice No. 1"
And now, the translation of Mahejabeen's poem:
"Unseasonal Autumn"
That's so like him
I ask him to come alone, but he brings spring with him
The trees outside hold vigil
Over the leafless still night
The image of the sky is frozen
In the still waters of the pond
I have a hazy recollection
Of the stars gently falling into the sky
No
I dont need the moon
Nor the soft glow of the moonlight
Enough for me is the blaze of the sun
Let this dark night linger
As I lie awake pining for him
That's so like him
When he comes, he brings the songs of birds with him
His presence is enough
To bring out my lost youth
My body becomes eager to learn
Every nuance of his carresses
I find myself secure in the warmth of his bosom
In the middle of the night,
He shakes me awake,
And tells me
About cruel bullets chasing
The laughing brooks so full of life
Afraid, I gather him to my bosom,
Seeking vainly to protect him
Now he is no more
Who knows which tree he dropped from
In this unseasonal autumn?
Regards,
Uday
PS: The first poem ("The Saddest Poem") was written by Pablo Neruda,
the Nobel Prize winning Chilean poet. The second ("ఆకు రాలు కాలం")
was written by Mahejabeen, a young feminist poet from
Nellore/Hyderabad, that some of the Telusa/RB veterans are familiar
with.
Courtesy: http://www.kanneganti.com/