Poems Of India - XXVI

I went to fornicate,

but all I got was counterfeit.

I went behind a ruined wall,

but scorpions stung me.

The watchman who heard my screams

just peeled off my clothes.

I went home in shame,

my husband raised weals on my back.

All the rest, O lord of the meeting rivers,

the king took for his fines.

to fate.

-- BASAVAŅŅA [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]

Looking for your light,

I went out:

it was like the sudden dawn

of a million million suns,

a ganglion of lightnings

for my wonder.

O Lord of Caves,

if you are light,

there can be no metaphor.

--ALLAMA PRABHU [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]

Poems Of India - XXV

You went riding elephants.

You went riding horses.

You covered yourself

with vermilion and musk.

O brother,

but you went without the truth.

you went without sowing and reaping

the good.

Riding rutting elephants

of pride, you turned easy target

to fate.

You went without knowing

our lord of the meeting rivers.

You qualified for hell.

-- BASAVAŅŅA [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]

A fire

in every act and look and word.

Between man and wife

a fire.

In the plate of food

eaten after much waiting

a fire.

In the loss of gain

a fire.

And in the infatuation

of coupling

a fire.

You have given us

five fires

and poured dirt in our mouths

O Ramanatha.

--DĒVARA DĀSIMAYYA [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]

Translation - Iss Shahr-e-Sang-Dil Ko Jala Dena (Muneer Niyazi)

is shahr-e-sañg-dil ko jalā denā chāhiye
phir us kī khaak ko bhī udā denā chāhiye

Line 1/2 - This stone-hearted city needs to be burned to the ground! Then its ashes needs to be flung in the winds. The poet says this cold brutal place needs to be consigned to the flames and then its ashes needs to thrown away. Such is the state of despair that not only the place needs to go, but not even its vestiges can stay for it reminds of the hopelessness of their existence. No trace needs to be left of it. The context here is not necessarily the place or people as such, but more of the behaviour (maybe the indiffernce) or the systems (may the rulers) prevelant there.

miltī nahīñ panāh hameñ jis zamīn par
ik hashr us zamīñ pe uThā denā chāhiye

Line 3/4 - There is no shelter or respite for us in such a land. A terrible fate should befall on such a place. Again the dark despair of the situation. There is no solace or any comfort this place provides. Such is the brutality of the place. I wish a calamity falls on such a place. A hostile place like a desert would make a poet wish for an oasis or an occasional rain or shade, but for a savage place where all hope is lost the wish is for its utter destruction.

hadd se guzar ga.ī hai yahāñ rasm-e-qāherī
is dahr ko ab is kī sazā denā chāhiye

Line 5/6 - The oppressive practices have crossed all limits here. This world now needs to be punished for this. The poet says that oppression and burden has crossed the limits now. rasm-e-qāherī would translate into ritual of oppression or unjust attitude. This place needs to be punished for this cruelty.

ik tez ra.ad jaisī sadā har makān mein
logoñ ko un ke ghar mein darā denā chāhiye

Line 7/8 - One sharp and thunderous like call rises from among all houses. Should scare the people inside their own homes. The poet says let fiery voices rise from every house. Terrify the people in the safety of their home and then they will rise to throw the tyrants out. Let the moment of comfort also be taken away for then only they will care!

gum ho chale ho tum to bahut khud meñ ai 'munīr'
duniyā ko kuchh to apnā pata denā chāhiye

Line 9/10 - Lost you are in your own self O! 'munir', let the world atleast know of your whereabouts. The poet says you are so absorbed in your thoughts and your troubles o! munir. Open yourself to the world and let them be aware of you.

Meaning of difficult words
shahr-e-sañg-dil = stone-hearted city, indifferent
qaahira = oppressive
dahr = this world
ra.ad = thunder
sadā = cry

Read more posts on Urdu poetry.

Poems Of India - XXIV

Make of my body the beam of a lute

of my head the sounding gourd

of my nerves the strings

of my fingers the plucking rods.

Clutch me close

and play your thirty-two songs

O lord of the meeting rivers !

-- BASAVAŅŅA [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]

Whatever It was

that made this earth

the base,

the world its life,

the wind its pillar,

arranged the lotus and the moon,

and covered it all with folds

of sky

with Itself inside,

to that Mystery

indifferent to differences,

to It I pray,

O Ramanatha

--DĒVARA DĀSIMAYYA [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]

Poems Of India - XXIII

People,

male and female,

blush when a cloth covering their shame

comes loose.

When the lord of lives

lives drowned without a face

in the world, how can you be modest?

When all the world is the eye of the lord,

onlooking everywhere, what can you

cover and conceal?

-- Akka Mahādēvi [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]

Look here, dear fellow:

I wear these men's clothes

only for you.

Sometimes I am man.

sometimes I am woman.

O' lord of the meeting rivers

I'll make war for you

but I'll be your devotees' bride.

 

-- Basavanna [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]

The Rubaiyat: Quatrain LVII

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Oh, Thou, who didst with Pitfall and with Gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in,

   Thou wilt not with Predestination round
Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?

 

This is the fifty-seventh quatrain of the FitzGerald's Rubaiyat. The poet says oh, the Creator, it is You who did create all the vice (gin) and the obstacles (pitfalls) in my way. The road that I travel on (life) is beset of just evil distraction and undue hardships. The One is responsible for all these are these designs and baits in his path. With such snares, They can not hold me responsible for getting entangled into such traps. With such a course per-decided, how can They lay blame on me for my Falling. It was always meant to be, I did not get to choose to avoid these or I did not choose these.

Poems Of India - XXII

You can confiscate
money in hand;
can you confiscate
the body's glory?

 
Or peel away every strip
you wear,
but can you peel
the Nothing, the Nakedness
that covers and veils?

 
To the shameless girl
wearing the White Jasmine Lord's
light of morning,
you fool,
where's the need for cover and jewel?

-- Akka Mahādēvi [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]

 

The world tires itself thinking
it has buried all shadow.

Can shadows die
for limbed animals?

If you rage and curse here
at the thief out there
on the other shore,
will he just drop dead?

These men, they do not know
the secret,
the stitches of feeling;
would our Lord of Caves
come alive
just because they wish it?

 

-- Allama Prabhu [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]

The Rubaiyat: Quatrain LVI

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And this I know:  whether the one True Light,
Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite,
    One glimpse of It within the Tavern caught
Better than in the Temple lost outright.

This is the fifty-sixth quatrain of the FitzGerald's Rubaiyat. The poet says I know this, I am sure about this. The True Light, the one that drives such passion and emotion of Divine Love or Wrath. Those emotions consumes my entire self. It is better to get a glimpse of that Being in a casual encounter in a tavern where we meet and chance upon as friends or companions on a journey than to be lost utterly trying to find Him in a temple. As an equal companion in a informal tavern, a glimpse could turn into a conversation about the nature of things. But in a temple setting, where I am one of the countless seeker, chances are I will be lost than getting some answers from You.

Poems Of India - XXI

  

Like a silkworm weaving
her house with love
from her marrow,
    and dying
in her body's threads
winding tight, round
and round,

    I burn
desiring what the heart desires.

Cut through. O lord,
my heart's greed,
and show me
your way out,

O lord white as jasmine.

-- Akka Mahādēvi [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]

 

How can I feel right
    about a god who eats up lacquer and melts,
    who wilts when he sees fire?

How can I feel right
    about gods you sell in your need,
    
    and gods you bury for fear of thieves?

The lord of the meeting rivers,
self-born, one with himself;

he alone is the true god.

 

-- BASAVAŅŅA [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]

Poems Of India - XX

  

Winnow, winnow!

Look here, fellows

winnow when the wind blows.

Remember, the winds

are not in your hands,

Remember, you cannot say

I'll winnow, I'll winnow

tomorrow.

When the winds of the Lord's grace

lash,

quickly, quickly winnow, winnow,

said our Chowdaiah of the Ferrymen.*

*Grace can not be called, recalled, or commanded. Be prepared to catch It as It passes.

--CHOWDAIAH OF THE FERRYMEN [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]

 

See-saw watermills bow their heads.

So what?

Do they get to be devotees

to the Master?

The tongs join hands.

So what?

Can they be humble in service

to the Lord?

Parrots recite.

So what?

Can they read the Lord?

How can the slaves of the Bodiless God,

Desire,

know the way

our Lord's Men move

or the stance of their standing?*

*a rejection of orthodox ritual genuflections & recitations

-- BASAVAŅŅA [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]