Jángar dihe dhaste gaile You drove yourself but went down
ghatate jái bhahrái parle under, becoming less and less until you stuck.
bhárti matti tu, Sarnámi dharte pe, Clod from India, soil of Surinam
ekdamme se phab gaile. you blended in completely.
Phat ke matti banal darár The soil broke into gullies
bharke bahal ánsu ujhláil filled with streams of shedding tears.
tabbe se thak hai, thak hai Since then it's quiet, quite right…
Sarnám. is Surinam.
Sámne se gujre phut-phut ke bicár, But close up fragmenting thoughts
soc men ná phabe, jaise kuch lage… still wriggle in the soul; something
bars the way.
I des men behál, banaile to thikán, In this land without "how are you?"
kahán tohar nám, kahán tohár nisán you made yourself at home; but
where's your name, where's your character?
≈ ≈
Tutal itihás ke ek dhákna ká uri!
Tohár muh ke murti ham katne baná sakilá,
bital bát batáwe khát
okar jibh to ná dolá sakilá!
Citá men bacal rákhi ke, hawá ná lage ki i ur jái,
bákas men bacal khujjá ke háth ná lage
ki i benisán ho jái.
Sáns men yád talphalá hai, jar káhen ná i já hai?
Itihás sok ke siyáhi men
kalam socke hos men doláwe hai.
Sok ke git se itihás kahán purá hoi.
How can a clipped-wing broken history
fly on just one wing?
From your face I can create many faces;
I cannot loosen your tongue
to speak of the past.
Let not the wind scatter ash from the pyre.
Let not the hand touch the corpse in the grave
so that it loses all meaning.
In breathing memories run short of breath;
why don't they go away?
Deliberately history is dipping the pen
in the ink of sorrow.
As if the song of sorrow
can make history whole again.
(from "Poems" © by Jit Narain, Paramaribo 2003)
[translated from Sarnámi by D. France Olivieira/W.W.]
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 