Undulating Fields

Day 5 Of NaPoWriMo 2018. 

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All I see is that beautiful vision, har subah hote, aankh malte hi
Without you this ride is hard, jaisa pau mei badiyaan, har kadam chalte hi.

You drifted away from the scene, just like a stray cloud rides on a breeze
Tere bina, kya maulaum, ab aah nikalti hi, har khawish ke masalte hi.

Through that gaze your eyes spin tales to last thousand and one nights
Ab wo har pari katha badalti jaise bure khwaab mein, har raat ke dhalte hi.

Hanging looms on the vines in those undulating fields pressed up against the sky
Tere haat se piwu jaam, jo woh angoor se bane, tere najuuk pair tale kuchalte hi.

Why do you spin ‘Mirage’ round and round like a vinyl record, baby? just come clean
Tere siyaahee ankhen, tere gulabi hoonthon ki balaa lage mujhe charaag ke jalte hi.

All English Version

All I see is that beautiful vision, every morning as I rub my eyes
Without you this ride is hard, my feet have shackles, with every step I take.

You drifted away from the scene, just as a stray cloud rides on a breeze
Without you, everyone knows, sighs emerge with every desire crushed.

Through that gaze your eyes spin tales to last thousand and one nights
Now those fairy tales turn to nightmares as the night arrives.

Looms hanging on the vines, in those undulating fields, press up against the sky
With your hands I drink wine made of grapes which your soft feet crushed.

Why do you spin ‘Mirage’ round and round like a vinyl record, baby? just come clean
Your dark eyes, and your rosy lips bring calamity, whenever the candle is lit.

Notes:
Today’s prompt was:

Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that, like the work in Translucence, reacts both to photography and to words in a language not your own. Begin with a photograph. Now find a poem in a language you don’t know (here’s a good place to look!) Ignore any accompanying English translation (maybe cover it up, or cut-and-paste the original into a new document). Now start translating the poem into English, with the idea that the poem is actually “about” your photograph. Use the look and feel of the words in the original to guide you along as you write, while trying to describe your photograph. It will be a bit of a balancing act, but hopefully it will lead to new and beautiful (and possibly very weird) places.

I did not follow the prompt exactly, but, I followed it in the spirit, perhaps.  And of course, I did not use any photo.  I had it in my mind, for a while, to write a poem that used two (or more) languages, similar to this poem/ghazal by Amir Khushro (one with translation is here) .  Khushro wrote this proto-ghazal in Persian and Hindawi (a precursor language to Hindi and Urdu, closer to Brij Bhasa).  The ghazal’s form is maintained in the original poem.  But in the translation done hastily, the poem loses the rhyme and refrain.  Something to revisit at a later time.

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mari e pol ma (meri us gali mein)

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(1)

Ghar, sehar ne desh badlaya, pn yaadon no aawas, mari e pol ma

yuva  madhyawastha ma sarkaae, pn shamble e prwas, mari e pol ma

ઘર, શેહર ને દેશ બદલાયા, પણ યાદોં નો આવાસ, મારી એ પોળ માં

યુવા મધ્યાવસ્થા માં સરકાય, પણ સાંભળે એ પ્રવાસ, મારી એ પોળ માં

घर, शेहर और देश बदले, पर यादों का आवास, मेरी उस गली में

युवा सरकी मध्यावस्था में, पर याद आये वो प्रवास, मेरी उस गली का

(2)

Kyarke ramya chakarda-bhmarda, kyarke lakhota ne gilli-danda

sanj pade gunjey e gali ne znzaa chiller no thai niwaas, mari e pol ma

ક્યારકે રમ્યા ચકરડા-ભમરડા, ક્યારકે લખોટા ને ગીલ્લી-દંડા

સાંજ પડે ગુંજે એ ગલી, ને ઝંઝા ચિલ્લર નો થાય નિવાસ, મારી એ પોળ માં

कभी खेले लट्टू-बट्टू से, कभी खेले गोली या गिल्ली-डंडे

शाम को गूंज उठे चिलर के  शोर से, मेरी उस गली में

(3)

Uttaraan ma khakhde chhapara ne ney norta ma ramai raas

Diwali mein phoote phtakada, dar vaar-thvaar no rhvaas, mari e pol ma

ઉત્તરાણ માં ખખડે છાપરાં ને નોરતાં માં રમાય રાસ

દિવાળી માં ફૂટે ફટાકડા, દર વાર-તહેવાર નો રહવાસ, મારી એ પોળ માં

उत्तरायण में छत से आवाज़ और नवरात्री में खेले रास

दीवाली में फटे फटाके, हर वार-त्योहार का रेहवास, मेरी उस गली में

(4)

Ahinya kare hajjamat Mohankaka, ne tyn perchuran thi kharidaye pippermito

Mandir ni nichey kandoyo, ne ani metthai ni mitthas, mari e pol ma

અહીંયા હજામત કરે મોહનકાકા ને ત્યાં પરચૂરણ થી ખરીદાય પીપિરમીટો

મંદિર ની નીચેવાલા કંદોયાની મીઠાઈ નો મીઠાસ મારી એ પોળ માં

यहाँ हजामत करे मोहनचचा और वहाँ चिलर से ख़रीदे पिपरमीटो

मंदिर के निचे वोह हलवाई कि मिठाई कि मिठास, मेरी उस गली में

(5)

laave  saakbhajiwaalo bharili lari, ane paadey boom pelo pyaala-barnithai thai bhagambhag jayre golla-wallo Chandu hoi aaspaas, mari e pol ma

લાવે શાકભાજીવાળો ભરેલી લારી, અને પાડે બુમ પેલો પ્યાલાં-બરણી

થાય ભાગમભાગ જ્યરે ગોળાવાળો ચંદુ હોઈ આસપાસ, મારી એ પોળ માં

लाये सब्जीवाला भरके अपना ठेला, और चिलाये वो बर्तनवाला

हो जाये भगंभाग जब गोलेवाला चंदू हो आसपास, मेरी उस गली में

(6)

Samay na prawah ma vahe juna chinno pn kayam rahe e chhabi

yaado par bhale ‘Dhummas’ chhavaya, pn mam.adveje e mukhvaas, mari e pol ma

સમય ના પ્રવાહ માં વહે જુના ચીંહો પણ કાયમ રહે એ છબી

યાદોં પર ભલે ‘ધુમ્મસ’ છવાય પણ મમળાવજે એ મુખવાસ, મારી એ પોળ માં

समय के प्रवाह में बेहे पुराने चिह्नों पर बनी रहे वोह तस्वीर

यादों पे छाये ‘सराब’ पर ले मज़ा वो पान-मसाले का, मेरी उस गली में

NOTES:

Written sometimes late last year or early this year after my trip to India last year.  Got around to making some edits today to where I think this is “good enough” to share.  The photo is of the flower shop on the street that I lived growing up.  Amazingly, that shop is still the same as it was 30+ years ago.  Somehow, I didn’t incorporate the flower shop in the poem.  The poem written in fairly colloquial Gujarati is quite a nostalgia piece.  I tried to capture some of the memories, sights and sounds.  I haven’t attempted to translate this into English, as I think it would be quite tough to do.  Might try it some other time.