Sunday, May 10, 2020

O, my Emperor [English and French Translations of a song by Tagore sung by Sahana Bajpaie]

The original Bengali version, written by Tagore
















In English

O, my Emperor!
How divinely dressed have you come
in the realm of my heart, to beat.
Millions of Moons and Suns shamefully
bow to you, in willing defeat.
All pride shatter into pieces,
they collapse merrily on the ground,
my whole body and mind dances,
plays like a Veena, without a sound.
What a beautifully sad tune
is humming in the wind!
All flowers in the garden willingly
fall at your shining feet.
My eyes are still,
behold nothing of the
world outside -
they descry your majestic beauty,
your loving presence, lying deep inside.

Disclaimer: 

I tried to post this on 8 May as it was the birth anniversary of Tagore, but I couldn't because the BBC kept me occupied with the 75th anniversary of the VE. So this is posted today.

All Tagore’s translations have one thing in common, they always fail. And I am no Yeats. With my poor English, I could only do this much. Even if you have understood a little, I would remain obliged. Otherwise please learn Bengali first if you have to understand Tagore.


Since this is a song, popularly known as Rabindrasangeet, you may listen to the beautiful rendition by a renowned singer Sahana Bajpaie by clicking here.

About the singer:

Bajpaie was born at Santiniketan, West Bengal, India. She spent her childhood at Santiniketan and lived there till 2002. Both of her parents were professors of political science at the University of North Bengal. She took her first lessons in music from her father, Bimol Bajpaie, and learned to sing at the age of six. Later she started taking learning from eminent musicians of Santiniketan like Bijoy Sinha, Chitra Roy, Shyamali Banerjee, Chandan Manda and Mita Haque and received training in Indian classical music and Rabindra Sangeet. In 2005, Bajpaie joined BRAC University in Dhaka as a lecturer in English. In May 2008, she left for London, where she is pursuing her PhD in Ethnomusicology at Kings College, London. [Source: Wikipedia]


In French


O, mon Empereur!

O, mon Empereur!
A quel point vous êtes-vous habillé
afin de battre mon cœur.
Des millions de lunes et de soleils
s'incline honteusement devant vous,
dans une défaite aimante.
Toutes les fiertés se brisent en morceaux,
ils s'effondrent heureusement sur le sol,
tout mon corps et mon esprit dansent,
joue comme une Veena, sans la parole.
Quelle mélodie magnifiquement triste
fredonne dans le vent!
Toutes les fleurs du jardin tombent
volontiers à vos pieds brillants.
Mes yeux sont immobiles,
ils ne voient rien du monde extérieur, apparent -
ils témoignent votre beauté majestueuse,
profondément présente, dedans.

Avertissement: 

J'ai essayé de poster la traduction le 8 mai car c'était l'anniversaire de naissance de Tagore mais je n'ai pas pu parce que j’étais occupé du 75e anniversaire de la VE grâce a BBC. Je publie donc ceci aujourd'hui.

Toutes les traductions de Tagore ont une chose en commun, elles échouent toujours. Et je ne suis pas Gide! Avec mon mauvais français, je ne pouvais que faire d’autant que cela. Même si vous auriez compris un peu, je resterais énormément obligé. Sinon, veuillez d'abord apprendre le bengali si vous voudriez vraiment comprendre Tagore.

Puisqu'il s'agit d'une chanson, populairement connue sous le nom de Rabindrasangeet, vous pouvez écouter la magnifique interprétation de Sahana Bajpaie, une chanteuse très connue, en cliquant ici.

À propos de la chanteuse:

Bajpaie est née à Santiniketan, au Bengale occidental, en Inde. Elle a passé son enfance à Santiniketan et y a vécu jusqu'en 2002. Ses deux parents étaient professeurs de science politique à l'Université du Bengale du Nord. Elle a pris ses premières leçons de musique auprès de son père, Bimol Bajpaie et a appris à chanter à l'âge de six ans. Plus tard, elle a commencé à apprendre auprès d'éminents musiciens de Santiniketan comme Bijoy Sinha, Chitra Roy, Shyamali Banerjee, Chandan Manda et Mita Haque et a reçu une formation en musique classique indienne et en Rabindra Sangeet. En 2005, Bajpaie a rejoint l'Université BRAC à Dacca en tant que professeur d'anglais. En mai 2008, elle est partie pour Londres, où elle poursuit son doctorat en ethnomusicologie au Kings College de Londres. [Source : Wikipédia]

Monday, April 27, 2020

Responsibility

You pelt stones at me, 
I will offer garlands;
You could take me for
A lunatic, an ignorant, 
But I will not water the plant;
You'll soon relieve me,
I will still let you be.

My ability to respond
Will unconditionally
Set me free.

The countdown

When the lockdown will be
over and done with,
when we'll walk past
the nonstop distancing,
when we'll again go to work,
when the world afresh
will be free from
the deadly virus,
when we'll regain
our lost freedom,
then we can sing to us,
'Hey buddies
We  did it, we made it,
We have really overcome'.

Life will be back to normal again.
Leaders, caregivers
aren't working in vain,
their efforts for sure will pay
happy days aren't far away.

With hope in every heart,
life can resume, restart,
with faith in every soul
we'll achieve our goal,
with resilience in every mind,
we can put our exile behind
with sparkle in our eyes
we can regain our kingdom
we can see the sun rise,
it is of no surprise
that the lockdown will surely end
the countdown will soon begin,
let's stay put for some more time
let's together count our blessings.

Sunday, April 26, 2020

Being in prison

Act I

I am in a prison,
in love with the
prisoners,
its regiments;
strange as it
might seem,
I can clearly see and sense
the gates are left open.

Act II

I am in a prison
charged for a
number of reasons,
for my lies mainly;
but strange as it can be,
as far as I can see
I sense that nowhere
ever before I felt so free.

Friday, April 24, 2020

Times

Times

Colourful words
lose their hues;
a rainbow,
in black and white.

Times

Unclean mind
cleaning hands,
healer, under the weather
utterly confused,
time and effort, abused.

I am History

I am History.
Do not talk to me
about conflicts,
the ones you had
with families, relatives
friends, neighbours,
colleagues, and
with neighbouring countries.
You have shown your unquestionable
integrity, sincerity, honesty
in keeping alive animosity
through unkind words,
self-destructive thoughts,
delinquent actions.

I am History.
What is so special about
keeping dead discords alive,
reliving hatred, rewriting same stories
in my pressing pages?
Get rid of your destructive box
and write something I am yearning
preserve, talk to me if you have resolved
issues, melted cold and silent wars,
standing in between yourselves
as stubborn, imperceptible icebergs.

I am History.
Talk to me when you can display
the same sincerity in friendship
that you have demonstrated
for self-molestation, self-degradation;
I want to read the same integrity in kindness
that you have shown in being enemies.
Talk to me when you can uphold
the same authenticity in healing
than in killing, the same honesty
in mending relationships.

I am History, a unique teacher,
if you fall prey to your same nature,
results will be that of repeated defeat;
if you conquer the deadly habit
you will lead towards victory,
it’s not difficult, no mystery,
look inside the folds
of the flora and the fauna
read the pages again,
rewrite your destiny.

I am History.
I would want my looks to change,
the age-old green room
traps me in a cage,
give me a hand I desperately
needed for so long,
play a different song
and sing along together;
all maladies and malpractices
will naturally disappear.

Sunday, April 19, 2020

Silence

The much travelled roads
Of conflict, arguments,
Discussions, debates
Cannot take talkers
To the destination,
Listening to the silence can,
Only silence can,
Only silence.

We're looking outside
For the ways to be free,
Being on the inside
Is the source, the only key.

What you say or do
Is not important,

  • What you think, is;

Be at ease please,
It's never too late
To sit and meditate.

Light of love

I couldn't understand you
My world, my love; I fear
There were rough and smooth
Patches we walked through,
The rich and the poor sides
Of being in love could
Perhaps never find the truth,
They lied on the ground beneath,
On the kingdom above.

Is that what made us part
Our ways? Our intimacy,
Being in love, didn't it ever
Make any sense!
We're going back into
Our tiny nests,
Fighting our battles,
Our struggles of being
Under the weather
All alone, wandering around
Belonging to none,
An exiled lover.

Being in love isn't easy
For there are these notions
Born before us, clouding our vision
The dead history recreates walls,
Barriers of the mind
That can't be cracked;
We had to lose
At the end of it all.

Tomorrow the stars will rise again
Light of love will never go in vain. 

Let it heal

The world is breathing,
It is healing.

We are struggling to live
Still fighting.

Conspiracy theories of warfare
Has made love, being loved unfair.

To fight the virus,
We're washing our hands,
Wearing masks;
If the mind could be shielded
And washed as well
We'd have helped us
Faster off this hell.
It seems we ought to
Do some thinking still,
The world is healing,
Let it heal. 

Wednesday, April 15, 2020

The indomitable

No, I will never ever die
Before I am physically dead,
I will live my lovely life
Until my breath
Is finally withheld.