Although the attendance was sparse the celebration of the anniversary of Rabindranth Tagore was central to this Poetry session.
Private translations were provided. Besides, translations by poets like William Radice added a new verve to the poetry of Rabindranath; his copious notes enhance the appreciation of certain poems.
Even the lyrics of a song (Rabindrasangeet) were adduced as worthy poetry, combining the musical and poetic genius of Rabindranath for an unforgettable effect.
Attending: Bobby, Thommo , KumKum, Joe, Soma, Priya
The next session for reading the novel Tess of d'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy will be on Friday June 10, 2011, at the Cochin Yacht Club library.
- If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England.
One for sorrow
Oh God, why shouldn’t a woman have
The right to attain her destiny?
Why should I meekly bow my head
And wait patiently until the end of an exhausting day –
For a chance fulfilment of my desire?
Why can’t I seek
The path to success myself?
Can I not press ahead on the chariot of discovery?
And urged on by my intense desire,
Traverse the arduous path to success,
Grasping every opportunity
And risking my future?
All decked up, bangles tinkling –
Rather, make me an indomitable lover,
Who will some day accept the garland of love from a hero.
That memorable moment shall not dissolve
In the gloom of twilight,
Nor will I ever let him forget the resolve within me.
Meek submission will not be worthy of his valour
Hence, I’ll be rid of weak and bashful diffidence.
The sound of trumpets announcing our union
Will be blasted to the horizon by roaring waves.
Letting slide my head scarf, I’ll whisper to him:
“Here on earth or in heaven above, you’re the only one for me.”
Just then the sea birds will take off with a great clamour,
Silencing the westerly wind, and
The lambent light of the Seven Sisters
Will guide them on their way.
I feel the swelling music of the Rudra Veena in my blood.
The most arduous milestone of my life is past;
Now I shall pour out my heart, without reserve,
Like a gushing spring. And whatever remains unspoken,
My beloved should find them within me.
And the spring of eloquence dries up
The sea shore will go silent.
The Champa Flower
Poem – The Myna
Why, from the flock is it apart?
When first I saw him under
The silk-cotton tree in my garden,
It appeared he was hobbling.
Hopping about and ferreting insects.
Treading this way and that —
Not a bit wary of me.
What sanctions of the flock
Have exiled him?
What tyranny of mynadom
Has caused this slight!
Scampering around the lawn
And flitting from branch to branch of the shirish tree —
But look, he's not bothered!
That wounded him, I wonder.
He forages for grub from habit
Among the fallen leaves,
And limps around the livelong day.
No prideful disdain he shows in his gait,
Nor fiery anger in his eyes.
Now's the time he goes to roost in a corner of the branches,
As the crickets begin to chirrup
To the sound of rustling bamboo leaves,
Carried on a puff of breeze.
The lone evening star,
Through a cleft of the tree.
A portrait on canvas,
A faint blur in the distance
Like remote constellations —
Traversing the night
Like lamps unfailing,
As do the planets, stars and the sun —
Are you not real, as they are?
You've possessed my inner vision,
And it's you I see in the green of the earth,
And you, in the blue of the sky.
In union with you;
And none else knows,
What even I was unaware —
For it's you who are the poet within me;
Hence no picture, not an image at all,
Oh! you in me, are no mere image!
Further below you can see the lyrics in Bengali transliteration (red) with the English translation (black), line by line. Click on the media file below first and follow the song as it plays.