Ek Chadar
Aapki khamoshi ek sufaid chaadar-si
Phail gayee hai meri tamaam zindagi pe
Nazar uthanese pehle sehem-sa jaata hun
Kabhi surkh bavandar uth-ta dikhai padta hai
Toh kabhi subz hariyalee sukunki vaadiyan
Kabhi puray aasmanka nilaapan chha jataa hai
Toh kabhi jhulaste registaanki pilee pyas,
Lekin yeh bedaagh sufaidi, apni zalim lakhon
Aakhonse yunh chha jaati hai, sare makhluq-pe,
Jaise koi fankaar ek nai duniya basane besabarise
Tadap uthaa ho, kahan kho jaati hai meri duniya?
Kahan chaak lagaoon mein?
© Max Babi 090706
Original in Urdu.
Transcreation In English
A White Sheet
Your silence like a blank sheet has enveloped
My entire lifetime.
Before peeping I hesitate embarrassed,
At times a reddish cyclone ensues
Or even a green peace sprouts forests
At times the unbroken blue of the whole sky spreads
Or the yellow thirst of the singed desert,
But this immaculate whiteness, with its cruel
Million eyes dissolves into the entire universe
As if an artist restlessly gets impatient
To set up fresh new worlds,
Where does my own world disappear to?
Where should I make a slit?
© Max Babi 090706.
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Comments: 15
I wish I could hear it in the Urdu you write in. Maybe gather will add a "sound" feature some day. Until then, I am blessed by your offerings.
I had to read it 3 times because I did not want to miss anything.
Another evocative offering from you. You are a very talented translator.
What a blessing it is to open them to yet another morning, as I write this -the sun is about to come up, bracing me up to take life as it comes.
John, much obliged.
Karuna, I long to read my poems in Urdu, there is a deep resonance in this superb language that you can't miss. Till then, Inshallah.
Tks, Shaunee.
Jackie -am touched. You'll end up memorizing it...
Barbaary -thanks, hope you guys end up understanding the original sooner or later.
Cheerz!
You must be finding it tough to spell out Urdu in English alphabets. There should be a voice feature so that non-Urdu readers can listen to Urdu poetry and appreciate the lyrical beauty of the language.
I guess one way out would be to go in for a podcast.
I would need help in that direction but a good friend of mine in Pune, Deepak Morris had done precisely that by reciting one of my poems 'An Ode To Jazz Garden'. Let met get in touch with him and put this up somewhere...yes listening to the Urdu version will solve a lot of problems.
Cheerz!
And the final haunting question---"Where should I make the slit?"--reminds me so of the great existential Italian artist Fontana, forever making holes in blank canvases to look forlornly through two dimensional flatness for the depth of the God he could not see.
This poem blew me away.
You make me feel like a Samson who is not aware at all of the prowess residing in his own being.
Deeply touched. Shall write another poem soon to celebrate my own discovery of self through your comments... you have magic powers1
Cheerz!