Tag: Jit Narain

SURINAME FORESHADOWS, TOIL WORDS

 

 

          Málá ke moti es rákhi jhalke,                          Like threaded pearls on a string the ash
        buni jes.                                                        gleams droplets.

        Yád ke guthe khát bát men ched kareke hoi,     In order to string the memories
        bát ke bartáw ke bháw kareke hai.                   words needed piercing
                                                                               weighing the worth of their usage.

                                                                      ≈  ≈ 

          Je sánp máre khát khud apne láthi banal
          apne burhápá men je apne-áp ke láthi bánais,
          oke láthi páwe men ká láthi khoje ke pari?

          Je lálac men phasie sát samundar pár
          jái garal,
          besat giral jaise bijli se katal dar phekái ke.

          Káhan badhuá kahán chutuwá major,
          kasur ke ná bát rahá.

          Mehnat men moh aur moh men mehnat,
          ekke dusar men ghuse dunu ke jiye ke sáth rahá.
                       
                                                                  He who to kill a snake became himself
                                                                  a stick,
                                                                  he who in his old age turned himself
                                                                  into a stick,
                                                                  why would he to find a stick look for a stick?
                                                                   
                                                                  He who in the grip of the lure crossed
                                                                  the seven seas,
                                                                  then squalled 
                                                                  crashed like a branch struck by lightning.
                                                           
                                                                  Slave labor, free labor  ̶  what's the difference?   
                                                                  guilt is not the issue here.

                                                                  Transfixed by toil, toiling in wonder,
                                                                  toil and wonder could continue
                                                                  to exist hand in glove.

                                                         (from "Poems" © by Jit Narain, Paramaribo 2003)

                                                                        [translated from Sarnámi by D. France Olivieira/W.W.]

SURINAM FORESHADOWS, TWO UNTITLED

 

        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.]