Hungry Stones - 1

(A poetic translation of a story by Rabindranath Tagore, kśhdhārto pāśhāņa, Hungry Stones, for convenience split in 13 parts) . It is set in blank verse with stanzas that rhymed in between. I All things return home like a song's refrain, We too were on our way back to country Home, from a leisure trip—my kin and me— When we met a livewire man in the train, He I recall in late life, somewhat vain, His dress no less looking indicative, And who impressed us with the way he talked— Demeanour and dialogue of a proud cock, Discoursing on themes heaven down to earth, A Muslim sure from afar, no native, Listening to him seemed well its weighed worth, Something still looked to me a bit insane. Life and land seem to rush to destiny, Pronounced this pompous man of ports many, Forces seem duly at work in the world— Too secretive, underground and unheard, Look, Russians have advanced closer to us, British moves seem far too inauspicious, Feud among our leaders has come to head, Confused and suspicious they see things red. And added to his belaboured refrain With a wry smile: What may cause acute pain Is: More still happen in heaven and earth Than is reported in the news as worth. The home-bound birds like us that had not seen The world he had, struck were dumb with wonder, With all his quotes on science, his comments On Vedas, verses of Persian poets; Our young ears, untutored to this knowledge, Caused our admiring bone to turn attuned, Sure, a magnet, occult power, an astral Body some sort doubtless has him inspired; We listened to him with devout rapture, Vaguely he seemed aware of our keen ears. The train reaching a railhead, we waited In a retiring room, too tired and jaded, The change of train weighing heavy ‘pon eyes; ‘The train's running late', someone made us wise, Our wise man when set out a tale to spin, And my sleep said goodbye with a wry grin: ________________________________________________ Translations | 01.03.13 |