Child

A baby is a blob of nature,
it dies soon after its birth,
feelings blurred in words;
they break the child into parts
through language, culture,
through countless identifiers -
a dog remains a puppy forever.

Copyright

Even if I write smallest of poems

I have to copyright them. 

Wonder who brought those

Stones on the steepest of mountains, 

Who made those monuments? 

Name

‘No! Please don’t put
my name on the list…
What? Okay, if you insist’.
Smiles the humble face,
‘you know this, I guess
if it’s for everyone’s benefit,
so be it, but I never
ever want the credit’.

‘No! I never suggested this
I want to be out of this mess
so many layoffs? It’s your baby,
I don’t want them to trace
my name, it’ll lead me in jeopardy
so count me out, please’.

‘No! They didn’t do it, we did.
How’s it that they’re applauded
for what our team had toiled.
We will sign a petition of protest,
our united voice will sound,
we have our feet on the ground
our silence will break,
they’ve got to include our name
for heaven’s sake’.

‘Oh! I was nominated’,
‘I was called to preside’,
‘I was awarded’
once, twice thrice
countless times, maybe’!
You’ve got to take them seriously?

‘But as far as I can see.
My predicament
on the seat of judgement
is unquestionable,
like all of you there,
I am no wannabe
you’ve got to humour me?’

Caught in camera

A black bird and a red bird
were pecking on the same fruit
hanging on the topmost branch
of a tree. Seeing this
poets wrote poetry on scarcity,
fiction writers paged power play,
playwrights added colours of discrimination,
a painter’s doodle sensed
courtship beyond imagination,
reporters staged a cold war,
an ornithologist was simply amazed
at their ability to share,
while a photographer caught the parents
carrying food for their baby dudes.

Humour the old

Without the old
it's not just a typo,
but a mistake
to form the world.

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]

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.

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.

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.