Good Morning by R. Tagore_ translated by Ranu

Sun (Photo credit: DBduo Photography)

Statue of Lord Shiva in Delhi Français : Statue de Shiva à Delhi (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Sun Pillar (Photo credit: Axiraa)

O sun your extremely bright light

has made its way through my door;

it rang like a flash of lightning on my chest

penetrating my dream.

I was wondering shall I or shall I not wake up,

are my eyes rid of the darkness,

can I open my eyes

that are still feeling sleepy.

Right at this time,from the north-east your

horn started ringing.

It is ringing louder and louder,

between the opening of the warm clouds

there were bright lights giving off heat in the sky.

Surprised I woke up

and saw the sky red.

O goddess Durga,why are you dressed like this!

why do you have a hissing serpent  on your forehead;

what kind of music is playing from your flute

on a beautiful morning like this?

Where is the enchanting cuckoo that sings on the branches?

Where are the flowers that sprout from the hidden forest?

After a long duration suddenly the dark side of the moon has cracked__

your curved sword in the dark

has sliced the buffalo in two.

The whole world is filled with pain__

droplets of blood are falling from the sky.

Some people are waking and trembling with fear,

others are terrified in their dream.

Your servants in the cemetery

are hungry in this dark night

are moistening their lips with their tongue

at intervals they are screaming.

They should be our our guests in our homes

dancing on the courtyard,

o inhabitants open all your doors,

do not hide yourselves___

whatever you have, carry them here,

you have to give all your wares.

Do not sleep any more.

Empty everything close to your heart

and fill their dishes.

O misers, what kind of love do you have

it is all false.

On our way to the rising sun,whose voice am I hearing,

‘don’t be afraid,have no fear___

those who donate from their heart

they will not, will not lose.’

O Sun god ,I am your music

tell me how will I sing my spiritual master__

in the dance of death I will mix my music with them

and play the small drum of my heart;

with heartfelt sorrow I will fill the basket

and decorate your articles of worship.

The stunning morning is here it’s here.

In the darkness of the night, Shiva

what a roaring laughter came out of him.

Those who woke up from this destruction

are extremely happy to be alive.

I will gladly give my life o giver of life

to have your acquaintance;

I have to sound your trumpet

for giving me the courage to conquer fear.

It was good this storm

it was scattered all over,

it is good to see morning

on the lap of the lion cloud__

we will celebrate the union by lighting  fire

for being able to live through the terrible storm.

surviving the night

I am ready to meet your grace

I would rather lose everything

to have the opportunity to kneel at your feet.

Getting Lost By R. Tagore___translated by Ranu

Getting Lost

My little daughter

she heard her friends calling her

she was going down the stairs to meet them

it was dark, she was scared ,she was taking careful steps.

She was holding a small open flame, little lamp,

she was cautiously keeping the lamp from the breeze with the corner of her sari.

I was on the roof watching the sky

in the dark night in springtime was full of stars.

Suddenly I heard my daughter crying

I ran down to see her.

While going down the stairs

a sudden gust of wind extinguished her lamp.

I asked her,’What is it Bami?’

She cried from downstairs, ‘I am lost.’

On that night of spring the sky was full of stars

I went back to the roof

while watching the stars I visualized as if I was a little girl like Bami

holding the corner of my blue sari

walking  alone ever so slowly protecting the lamp.

If the lamp was put out, stopped giving light suddenly,

there will be an echo of a tearful voice from the whole sky,’I am lost.’

Acquaintance by Tagore__ translated by Ranu

Goddess Lakshmi (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This poem of Tagore shows him as a person,who has a side which notices other  things that are not so serious. This is about an acquaintance. I am dedicating the translation of this poem to my very good friends,who take their time to support my translations and write encouraging comments. I am truly grateful for their generosity. The friends are: Mr. Akhtar Wasim Dar, Mr. Robert and MS. Noor.

Acquaintance

There is a girl, I know, she controls the small village___

everyone gives her what she needs for Pooja, they call her Lakshmi.

But I say shall we believe  what you say,

I doubt she is so well-behaved.

In early morning, I know not where her sleep disappears___

she is rowdy in her bed.

She wakes up the whole neighborhood and giggles,

She stealthily tries to run away instead of going to her mother’s lap.

When she extends her arms and looks at me, then I am helpless,

I pick her up on my shoulders and walk around in the neighborhood.

she is delighted to find such a comfortable mode of transportation

she shows it by blows with her soft chubby fists.

I eagerly tell her wait , wait,

she tries to take my eye glasses with her fist.

She argues in her sweet voice makes a lot of noise___

it’s a terrible spectacle,you just call it a friendly behavior!

Still I think it is unbecoming for me to argue with her___

without her the melody of the flute doesn’t sound the same.

without her, can there be so many flowers sprouting?

If she is not here will the evening stars come up?

If there is no noise even for a moment,

there is no way my heart will be filled with joy.

Her mischief is like a south wind it comes as a happy sound to awaken everyone_

it sways my heart and gives me the same contentment that I get when I see the flower garden.

If you ask me her name it makes me think,

which name can I give, is something I cannot think.

Who keeps track of her name, I call her whatever I please__

I  call her mischievous,wild, ferocious.

the name given by her parents let that be only theirs_

you can look for sweet ,pretty names,but no,keep them safely in the box.

When someone chooses a name in a party, why should

the whole world , be compelled  to use    that name,it is too restrictive.

Why not we all give a name we like___

Dad calls her Chandrakumar,uncle calls her Ramcharan.

It doesn’t suit the daughter of the house to have a name in Sanskrit.

Does it make them more important or the price of the dictionary should be counted.

I, will only  call by whatever name comes to my lips___

Whatever I call, she will understand , let everyone else laugh.

One small human being she has hundreds of moods,

is it appropriate to call such a person  by one name only?

Lakshmi (Photo credit: elycefeliz)

Letter writing by Tagore, translated by Ranu

Mentmore Regent fountain pen (Photo credit: Athanasius)

Small format paper cutter (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Sixty-One Writing Implements (Photo credit: unprose)

This is a simple poem written by Tagore. The title of this poem is,’Letter Writing’.

You gave me a gold fountain pen__

there are so many writing tools.

The small desk

is made of walnut wood.

A stamped letter pad

in different sizes.

silver enameled paper cutter

scissors,knife,sealing wax,red ribbon.

A glass paper-weight,

red blue green pencils.

you left saying you have to write letters

every other day.

I am sitting down to write,

I finished my shower this morning.

I cannot think of what to write.

There is only one news__

you have gone.

You know this news too.

Still I think,

You don’t know it well.

So I think, let me tell you this__

you have gone.

Every time I start writing

I am caught,this news is not easy

I am not a poet;

I am unable to use my voice in my writing,

there is no look from my eyes.

I write many times, but I tear it.

It is ten in the morning.

Your nephew  Boku will go to school,

I will go and feed him.

For the last time I will write this__

you have gone.

The rest of the letter is all meaningless marks on the blotting paper.

Rabindranath Tagore won the Nobel prize for literature. It is the first Nobel prize won by Asia. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Question by R. Tagore___ translated by Ranu

Tagore in 1879, when he was studying in England. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The title of this poem is ‘Question’

O God,you sent messengers so many times

in this cruel world___

they said,’forgive all,  ‘said give love___

remove all bad thoughts from your heart’.

they are  respected, they are remembered, still outside

in these bad times their efforts failed.

I saw secret jealousy in the insincere darkness

how it hit the helpless people.

I saw ____no justice against the criminals

the verdict went against the innocent and made them cry quietly.

I saw young boys running to save their lives

what a painful death they suffered.

My voice is silent today, my flute has lost its melody.

In this dark fortnight who has

destroyed my world that seems like a nightmare.

This is why I ask you with tearful eyes____

P question (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

those who have poisoned your air, turned off your lights,

did you forgive them,  did you love them?

Birth Discussion by Tagore Translation by Ranu

This is another poem of Tagore,in this he talks to his mother about “Birth.”

The little boy calls his Mom and asks, ‘where did I come from

where did you pick me up from?

Hearing this Mom in a crying and laughing tone      hugged the boy in her chest_

‘you were a wish in my mind.’

You were in my imagination when I played with my doll, in my early morning prayer

I have taken you apart and put you together.

You were with my god    on my prayer throne,

I was thinking of you while I was praying to god.

‘In all my wish forever,in all of my love,

in my mother’s and grandmother’s heart,

in our old home    on my Devi’s lap

I don’t know how long you were hiding there.

In my youth when everything in me unfolded

you were mixed like a fragrance inside me,

you were present in my young body

giving away your gentle loveliness.

‘You are the precious love of all the gods    you are forever old,

you are as old as the morning light.

Your entry into the world is a dream that brings a flow of happiness

you have come to my heart as a new pleasure.

‘After seeing you suddenly    I didn’t understand your mystery___

you belonged to everyone, how did you become mine!

From that body to mine   you became Mom’s baby

with a beautiful smile you showed up on this earth.

‘I am afraid to lose you this is why  I want to hold on to you in my chest,

if you move away from me slightly I begin to cry____

I don’t know what kind of affection has trapped me, to me you are my worldly treasure I want to hold on to you

and  hide you in my fragile arms.’

Rabindranath Tagore with wife Mrinalini Devi from a Pirali Brahmin clan which some Tagores regularly married into (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Incomplete By Rabindranath Tagore___ translation by Ranu

This is a poem in which the poet talks  about all the things that he could not complete.

In life all the prayers I did not complete,

I know ,I know even then it is not my defeat.

The unopened flower  that fell on the earth,

the river that lost its flow on the desert,

I know ,I know even then it is not a loss.

In my life whatever is left incomplete,

I know,I know even then it is not false.

My future my  unblemished life

are playing in the strings of your lute__

I know, I know still they are not lost.

English: Photo of Rabindranath Tagore, taken in 1905 or 1906 by the poet and artist Sukumar Ray, father of Satyajit Ray (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A MISER: a poem by Tagore___ Translation by Ranu

This is another poem of Tagore,I am translating.I hope my readers will find it interesting. The title is   ‘A Miser’

A Miser

I was returning to the village after begging in  different homes,

Gold coin of Richard III, 1377-99 (Photo credit: Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery)

you were riding your gold chariot.

It seemed like an unbelievable dream to me_

how captivating was the sight,how beautiful was your attire!

I was thinking in my mind who is this Maharaja.

My dawn started with such a pleasant sight, I thought then

today I won’t move around door to door to beg

As soon as I was out who did I meet on the path, I began to think,

from the moving chariot  the Maharaja will toss gold and silver coins on both sides of the path___

I will pick them in both my hands, all those heavy metals.

I see suddenly the chariot stops near me,

you looked at me and smiled as you came down.

your pleasant face made me forget my pain,

at this time what compelled you to come here

‘give me something my dear’ after saying this you held out your hand.

How can it be, my Maharaja, ‘give me something’____

as I heard this I lowered my head for a moment.

What can you want from a beggar like me!

This is only a joke you are making fun of me.

I took out a small thing and gave it to you.

When I brought my bundle home and emptied it out___what is this,

Amid all my things I got from begging I see a small gold piece!

The small stingy piece I gave returned to me as a piece of gold____

Then my eyes welled with tears I cried,

why didn’t I give you everything in my bundle?

English: Silver rupee with legend inside square area.From my personal collection. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Rainfall,A poem by Tagore—Translated by Ranu

English: az monsoon clouds (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The poem rainfall by Tagore,is a very popular poem,recited in almost every home in  Bengal. At times I feel Tagore probably wrote this because it brought back nostalgic memories of his own childhood. The Monsoon season is awaited seriously because it gives relief from the extreme heat of summer.

The title of this poem is :’Rain Is Falling Drip Drop’

The sky is overcast,the day is coming to an end, the sun is about to set.

The layers of clouds are waiting patiently to catch a glimpse of the moon.

The bell in the temple is reminding , the devotees,it is time for prayer.

Over on the other side the falling rain is obscuring the trees.

Here on this side the colourful clouds are looking like hundred gems.

The breeze on this cloudy day reminds me of the childhood song___

Rain is falling drip drop, the river is overflowing.

The clouds surrounding the sky are playing different games,they have no boundaries___

They continue playing from country to country, no one forbids them.

Leaving precipitation in the gardens is a joy to behold,

It is amazing to see the the variety of games displayed by the clouds!

These games reminds me of the game of hide and seek we played in so many corners!

With it I think of the song ___

The rain is falling drip drop,the river is overflowing.

It brings my memory back about the light in my house,

my mother’s bright smile____

the sound of thunder and my palpitating heart.

The little boy sleeping on one side,

the trouble he gave Mom is hard to describe.

The over active boy jumping__

the loud thunder outside making everyone tremble.

Magically from a distance my Mom’s song___

Rain is falling drip drop the river is overflowing.

I recall my friends Shuorani and Duorani,

Also the angry Kankaboti’s pain.

The little flickering light in the corner of the house,

giving off black shadows all around the walls.

The sound from outside of the steady drop of water ting ting ting__

The wild boy listening to the story, absolutely quiet____

with it I remember my childhood song,

,The rain is falling drip drop the river is overflowing.

When did the rain fall,where was the flood___

Shiva Thakur’s marriage that was a long time ago!

Did the clouds display their merriment that day too!

Did  the thunder and lightning also pay a visit at intervals!

What happened to the groom after marrying the three women!

I don’t know in which side of which river,or in which country,

who sang the song, who did she put to sleep____

rain is falling drip drop,the river is overflowing.

Mother Of Bengal By Rabindranath Thakur(Tagore)

Good and Evil (Photo credit: WELS.net)

Rabindranath Tagore won the Nobel prize for literature. It is the first Nobel prize won by Asia. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

O ,Mother Of Bengal let your sons experience good and bad deeds,sorrow and joy,ups and downs in life.

Let your sons be human

O most affectionate mother land__in your land of millions

Don’t keep them as innocent children any more.

Let them explore all the countries whichever is the place

make them independently find that abode.

Every step of the way you are protecting them from making small mistakes

do not restrict them and hold on to them as obedient sons.

by giving their life ,enduring pain and suffering, alone

let them distinguish between good and evil.

Take your pious,weak and peaceful sons

let them be homeless, daring and reckless.

O, my admirable mother you have kept your seven million sons,

as Bengalis_____you have failed to raise them as human beings.

Translation by   Ranu