Amthi amthi mujhne aklaave kshano
Chaalvaa jaaoon ne thobhaave kshano
Besvaa jaaoon ne dodaave kshano
Mrug-jalo dekhaadi bharmave kshano
Hu.n neeraate ungh pun naa lai shaku.n
Ardh rate dwaar khakhadaave kshano
Chhinvi le koliyo ko'dee ane
Koee-dee mujh paatr chhalkaave kshano
Hu.n saral panthe jaaoo.n chaali ane
Koydo aapine aklaave kshano
Bhul hu.n karti rahu.n choo.n raat-dee
Ek sahiyarni jem samjhaave kshano
Chhe ajayab ghar sakal sarnksar aa
Ne vali ema.n y atkaave kshano
Chhe gulabo-na abharkha toh mane
Baavlo chhe kem aa vaave kshano
Mare mat viadh chhe akseer e,
Ghaav tu.n aape ne rujhave kshano
Shoo.n "Ghazala" daholi-e itihas-ne,
Je gayee paachee na e aave kshano.
© Maryam Ghazala, from her Gujarati verse collection 'Akshar kyaari' Maasoom Prakashan, Thane, Maharashtra India, 2006.
Translation :
For no ostensible reason, moments do make me uneasy
I attempt to walk and they stop me –these moments
Here I go to sit down and they make me run, these moments
They show me mirages, they implant visions, these moments
I cannot even fetch proper sleep,
For they come knocking at the door at midnight, these moments
On some days they rob me of a morsel of food, and,
On some days they make my begging bowl overflow, these moment
I take the path of simplicity and
Dumping riddles on me, they harass me, these moments
I keep making mistakes day and night
Like a close companion they reason with me, these moments
This entire world is a huge museum
And within that, they make me lose way, these moment
Though I harbour desires for roses
Why does this stepwell have only thorny bushes, moments?
They are excellent healers, they,
You give me wounds and they heal me, these moments
Why muddle up history dear "Ghazala"
Once gone they never return, these moments.
© Max Babi Oct. 2006
Transcreation :
" These Moments"'
Make me uneasy, force me to walk
when I wish to go to pieces…
push me into motion, when fatigued,
wrap me in mirages, fill my head with visions,
while sleep eludes me, midnight knocks are real.
Moments rob single morsels, at times,
yet overfill my begging bowl,other times.
Simplicity of my path is often robbed by
Riddles they dump on me.
Prone to mistakes I have always been
And like confidantes they reason with me…
As I roam in the museum that is this world
They lead me astray, these moments.
I hanker for roses but why do bramble bushes
Grow around my favorite watering hole?
Matchless healers, these moments, do heal
My wounds that you only gave me dear…
Untangling future from past is futile "Ghazala"
Once gone they never return these magic moment.
© Max Babi Oct. 2006.
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Comments: 14
another serious accomplishment that both brings us in touch with our mortal feelings and build a bridge between cultures, reaching the conclusion: langauges are many but people are one , we all feel ,live, love, and die, and if we write that lives beyond time .
kshano ne todava besun to varasona varas lage;
bukani chhodava besun to varasona varas lage.
As always your transcreation is wonderful and so full of the deepest heart of the poem. It is in the words that you create such blessings.
Thank you!!
full of warmth and meaning
You wrote:
kshano ne todava besun to varasona varas lage;
bukani chhodava besun to varasona varas lage.
Manoj [Khanderia, I hope?] says:
If I sit to break up moments, it would take me years;
If I try to remove my mask, it would take me years...
What an apt couplet you quoted! How comfortable we feel with our age-old masks!
Thanks Mme. Maryam for the explanation to Sigalit.
Thanks a lot Karuna and Sara, for your perceptive comments.
Cheerz!
LLE
Dipalle
Thanks again!
Maryam Gazala