In response to one of my prior posts on Mahadevi, reader Vijay A left a comment providing a link where Mahadevi's story Gillu is available online. I am re-posting the link here to increase its visibility:
http://ncert.nic.in/book_publishing/Class%209/Sanchayan/chapter%201.pdf
Thanks to Vijay A for sharing this link.
Friday, October 23, 2009
A few Agyeya translations
Once upon a time, not so long ago, I made an attempt at translating a few excerpts from the poetry and prose works of Agyeya, and made these translations available online, in an effort to make them accessible to a wider audience. I am now moving that material here:
दूर्वाचल
पार्श्व गिरि का नम्र:
चीड़ों में डगर चढ़ती उमंगों सी.
बिची पैरों में नदी, ज्यों दर्द की रेखा.
विहग-शिशु मौन नीड़ों में.
मैंने आँख-भर देखा.
दिया मन को दिलासा--पुनः आऊंगा
भले ही बरस-दिन--अनगिन युगों के बाद.
क्षितिज ने पलक सी खोली
तमक कर दामिनी बोली:
'अरे यायावर, रहेगा याद?'
(from the anthology: 'इंद्रधनु रौंदे हुए ये')
My attempt at an English translation:
The quiet mountain background:
amidst the pines, the trail rising exuberantly.
The river spread at my feet, as though
the Earth's face were crinkled with pain.
The fledgelings were quiet in their nests.
I took it all in to my eyes' content.
Consoled myself--I would come again
though it be days-months--ages hence.
The Horizon seemed to come alive
the Lightning said derisively:
'Oh wanderer, will you remember?'
Misc. short poems
--------------------------
सांझ-सवेरे
रोज़-सवेरे मैं थोड़ा-सा अतीत में जी लेता हूँ--
क्योंकि रोज़-शाम को मैं थोड़ा-सा भविष्य में मर जाता हूँ.
(from: 'क्योंकि मैं उसे जानता हूँ')
My attempt at a translation:
Every morning I live a bit in the past--
because every evening I die a bit in the future.
------------------------------------------------------------------
एक दिन, और दिनों सा
आयु का एक बरस ले चला गया
(from: ??)
My attempt at a translation:
A day, like any other
Took away a year of life in its wake.
------------------------------------------------------------------
कैसा है यह ज़माना
कैसा है यह ज़माना
कि लोग इसे भी प्यार की कविता मानेंगे!
पर कैसा है यह ज़माना
कि हम ऐसी ही कविता में अपना प्यार पहचानेंगे
(from: 'सागर-मुद्रा')
My attempt at a translation:
What a world it is
that people will consider even this to be a love-poem
But what a world it is
that we shall indeed see the reflection of love in such a poem.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Prose works:
I would recommend that Agyeya enthusiasts read his essay मेरी पहली कविता (My First Poem), which is the opening essay in the collection आत्मनेपद, if they haven't already done so. In this essay he recounts how, at the age of four, he composed his first poem, unknowingly. He had been given a spinning top to play with by a relative, who told him that the toy was called "bhumiri". While playing with it, and reveling in his ability to make it spin, he started clapping and chanting:
"नाचत है भुमिरि, नाचत है भुमिरि।"
He did not find words beyond that, but it dawned on him that it was not merely his top ("bhumiri") that was spinning, the Earth ("bhoomi ri") is also spinning; the whole Universe is engaged in a cosmic dance of sorts. In an ordinary sentence, he isolated a profound meaning. And he realized the power of words.
An excerpt from Apne Apne Ajnabi:
"समय मात्र अनुभव है, इतिहास है. इस सन्दर्भ में 'क्षण' वही है जिसमें अनुभव तो है लेकिन जिसका इतिहास नहीं है, जिसका भूत-भविष्य कुछ नहीं है; जो शुद्ध वर्तमान है, इतिहास से परे, स्मृति के संसर्ग से अढूषित, संसार से मुक्त. अगर ऐसा नहीं है, तो वह क्षण नहीं है, क्योंकि वह काल का कितना ही छोटा खंड क्यों न हो, उसमें मेरा जीना काल-सापेक्ष जीना है, ऐतिहासिक जीना है. वह बिन्दु नहीं है, रेखा है; रेखा परम्परा है और क्षण परम्परा-मुक्त होना चाहिए."
My attempt at a translation:
Time is but experience, and history. In this context, a moment is that which has experience but no history, which has no past or future, which is purely the present, transcending history, not tainted by memory, free of the rest of the world. If it is not so, then it is not a moment, because however small an interval of time it may be, my living through it is a passage through time, with a historical context attached to it. It is not a point, but a line; a line embodies tradition and a moment must be free of tradition.
दूर्वाचल
पार्श्व गिरि का नम्र:
चीड़ों में डगर चढ़ती उमंगों सी.
बिची पैरों में नदी, ज्यों दर्द की रेखा.
विहग-शिशु मौन नीड़ों में.
मैंने आँख-भर देखा.
दिया मन को दिलासा--पुनः आऊंगा
भले ही बरस-दिन--अनगिन युगों के बाद.
क्षितिज ने पलक सी खोली
तमक कर दामिनी बोली:
'अरे यायावर, रहेगा याद?'
(from the anthology: 'इंद्रधनु रौंदे हुए ये')
My attempt at an English translation:
The quiet mountain background:
amidst the pines, the trail rising exuberantly.
The river spread at my feet, as though
the Earth's face were crinkled with pain.
The fledgelings were quiet in their nests.
I took it all in to my eyes' content.
Consoled myself--I would come again
though it be days-months--ages hence.
The Horizon seemed to come alive
the Lightning said derisively:
'Oh wanderer, will you remember?'
Misc. short poems
--------------------------
सांझ-सवेरे
रोज़-सवेरे मैं थोड़ा-सा अतीत में जी लेता हूँ--
क्योंकि रोज़-शाम को मैं थोड़ा-सा भविष्य में मर जाता हूँ.
(from: 'क्योंकि मैं उसे जानता हूँ')
My attempt at a translation:
Every morning I live a bit in the past--
because every evening I die a bit in the future.
------------------------------------------------------------------
एक दिन, और दिनों सा
आयु का एक बरस ले चला गया
(from: ??)
My attempt at a translation:
A day, like any other
Took away a year of life in its wake.
------------------------------------------------------------------
कैसा है यह ज़माना
कैसा है यह ज़माना
कि लोग इसे भी प्यार की कविता मानेंगे!
पर कैसा है यह ज़माना
कि हम ऐसी ही कविता में अपना प्यार पहचानेंगे
(from: 'सागर-मुद्रा')
My attempt at a translation:
What a world it is
that people will consider even this to be a love-poem
But what a world it is
that we shall indeed see the reflection of love in such a poem.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Prose works:
I would recommend that Agyeya enthusiasts read his essay मेरी पहली कविता (My First Poem), which is the opening essay in the collection आत्मनेपद, if they haven't already done so. In this essay he recounts how, at the age of four, he composed his first poem, unknowingly. He had been given a spinning top to play with by a relative, who told him that the toy was called "bhumiri". While playing with it, and reveling in his ability to make it spin, he started clapping and chanting:
"नाचत है भुमिरि, नाचत है भुमिरि।"
He did not find words beyond that, but it dawned on him that it was not merely his top ("bhumiri") that was spinning, the Earth ("bhoomi ri") is also spinning; the whole Universe is engaged in a cosmic dance of sorts. In an ordinary sentence, he isolated a profound meaning. And he realized the power of words.
An excerpt from Apne Apne Ajnabi:
"समय मात्र अनुभव है, इतिहास है. इस सन्दर्भ में 'क्षण' वही है जिसमें अनुभव तो है लेकिन जिसका इतिहास नहीं है, जिसका भूत-भविष्य कुछ नहीं है; जो शुद्ध वर्तमान है, इतिहास से परे, स्मृति के संसर्ग से अढूषित, संसार से मुक्त. अगर ऐसा नहीं है, तो वह क्षण नहीं है, क्योंकि वह काल का कितना ही छोटा खंड क्यों न हो, उसमें मेरा जीना काल-सापेक्ष जीना है, ऐतिहासिक जीना है. वह बिन्दु नहीं है, रेखा है; रेखा परम्परा है और क्षण परम्परा-मुक्त होना चाहिए."
My attempt at a translation:
Time is but experience, and history. In this context, a moment is that which has experience but no history, which has no past or future, which is purely the present, transcending history, not tainted by memory, free of the rest of the world. If it is not so, then it is not a moment, because however small an interval of time it may be, my living through it is a passage through time, with a historical context attached to it. It is not a point, but a line; a line embodies tradition and a moment must be free of tradition.
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