A Hindi Song: Singer Lata Mangeshkar, known as the melody queen, translation by Ranu

https://sabethville.wordpress.com/

These nights, this season,

this laughing and making

me laugh,

you can forget me,

but do not forget

this environment.

this teasing looks,

this dizzy posture

these eyes drowned,

in dark clouds,

the quiet story

on the atmosphere’s lips,

Forget me,

but do not forget them.

In the garden,

where our story,

started,

our love and your youth,

Our warm breaths together

the threatening clouds,

the drip drop sound of the rain,

this overjoyed state,

when we lost ourselves,

You and I humming,

Do not forget these moments,

Even if you forget me!

……………………………………… 🙂

Daily Prompt: Forever Young

If there were a real Fountain of Youth, would you drink the water?

If there was a guarantee that the Fountain of Youth would make me younger, I’d say it would be worth trying.

There is one thing that disturbs me, if I am young forever, would it entail me going to school and start all over again?

If the answer is ‘Yes’,then I will not be interested. I have gone through all kinds of hardships to finish my education. Going through it again will not be suitable for me.

I won’t get any help from my siblings, they’ve done it once, second time would not be feasible as they have their own kids who need their help.

Besides the cost of education is higher and the salary is not proportionately higher for my siblings.

Return of youth as tempting as it sounds will not work for me!

……………………………….. 🙂

DP Daily Prompt: Snapshot Stories

Open the first photo album you can find –real or virtual, your call–and stop at the first picture of yourself you see there. Tell us the story of that photo.

This is a picture of me, it was taken by my friend, Evelyn Baptist, here I’m sitting on the grass, it is surrounded by some shrubs and plants, this is my residence in, Holy Cross College, Dhaka. 

That day most of us were thinking of starting an autograph,where we could get our friends and teachers to write something and sign our names, Evie went a bit further she wanted me to wear a sari and get my picture taken to paste on the first page of my book. I agreed, if you see this picture, I’m really not sure if you can tell I was nervous in my sari,I feared the pleats may come off, and make me look like a fool.I always avoided wearing a sari, this day Evie was firm, she said, “you have to wear it.”

I must have borrowed the sari from one of the girls, I didn’t have any. I felt at ease with my Shalwar Kamiz.

This is what I wrote on the first page:

Dear friends, 

Use your pen and brains

And do not let me ask in vain

When many years have passed away

And evening shadows round me play

Then shall this book of jest and truth

Recall the memories of my youth

Dear friends I once again invite

A few lines in my book to write.

Signed : C.S.

: https://sabethville.wordpress.com/2014/06/01/dp-daily-promp…apshot-stories/

 

porichay Introduction By Tagore Translated by Ranu

English: Rabindranath Tagore Русский: Тагор, Рабиндранат (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The boat docked at this wharf one day

it’s speed was like the breeze of fresh spring.

You called me and asked

‘do you have an identity,

where will you go?’

I just replied,’who knows!’

The river swayed,the rope was pulled__

Alone I sat and sang a painful song of my youth.

hearing that song

young men and women  under the flowered tree

picked the red flower__

gave it to me and responded,’ he is our acquaintance.’

Nothing else,

this was my first introduction.

Then during flood-tide

the game of ripples was completed;

song of the fatigued cuckoo

brings to mind the discourse of the days gone by;

the sweet smelling flowers falling,

floating far away,

are the remains from the previous night’s merriment

English: Ebbing tide on Sango Beach (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

lacerated

insignificant.

with the pull of the ebbing tide

the boat flows away towards the ocean.

the new passengers, boys and girls

call from far away,

‘watching the evening star

who are you rowing the boat?’

I pulled the string of my sitar,

sang once more,

‘let my name be known as,

your acquaintance,

and nothing else___

let this be my last introduction.’