ஞாயிறு, 15 பிப்ரவரி, 2015

இன்னும் கொஞ்சம் நிஸிம் இசக்கியேல்.

நிஸிம் இசக்கியேல் கவிதைகள் சிலவற்றைத் தமிழில் மொழிபெயர்த்துள்ளேன். அவை இங்கே. நிஸிம் இசக்கியேல். இருளின் கீதங்கள்.

இன்னும் சில :-


HYMNS IN DARKNESS :-

1.TONE:-
DONT MAKE
A FOOL OF ME
I AM ONE ALREADY
YOU WRITE LONG MAD LETTERS
CELEBRATING OUR CREEDLESS
ECCENTRICITIES.


1. த்வனி :-

முட்டாளாக்காதே
என்னை.
ஏற்கனவே அப்படிப்பட்ட ஒருவன்தான்.
பைத்தியமுறச் செய்யும்
நீண்ட கடிதங்களை நீ எழுதுகிறாய்
நம்முடைய துணிவற்ற
விசித்திரமான நிலையைக் கொண்டாடியபடி. 

Night of the Scorpion

I remember the night my mother
was stung by a scorpion. Ten hours
of steady rain had driven him
to crawl beneath a sack of rice.

Parting with his poison - flash
of diabolic tail in the dark room -
he risked the rain again.

The peasants came like swarms of flies
and buzzed the name of God a hundred times
to paralyse the Evil One.

With candles and with lanterns
throwing giant scorpion shadows
on the mud-baked walls
they searched for him: he was not found.
They clicked their tongues.
With every movement that the scorpion made his poison moved in Mother's blood, they said.

May he sit still, they said
May the sins of your previous birth
be burned away tonight, they said.
May your suffering decrease
the misfortunes of your next birth, they said.
May the sum of all evil
balanced in this unreal world

against the sum of good
become diminished by your pain.
May the poison purify your flesh

of desire, and your spirit of ambition,
they said, and they sat around
on the floor with my mother in the centre,
the peace of understanding on each face.
More candles, more lanterns, more neighbours,
more insects, and the endless rain.
My mother twisted through and through,
groaning on a mat.
My father, sceptic, rationalist,
trying every curse and blessing,
powder, mixture, herb and hybrid.
He even poured a little paraffin
upon the bitten toe and put a match to it.
I watched the flame feeding on my mother.
I watched the holy man perform his rites to tame the poison with an incantation.
After twenty hours
it lost its sting.

My mother only said
Thank God the scorpion picked on me
And spared my children.
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/Night-of-the-Scorpion#sthash.TnFTQYwl.dpuf
2. GANGA 
SHE BRINGS A SMELL WITH HER
AND LEAVES IT BEHIND HER
BUT WE ARE USED TO IT
THESE PEOPLE NEVER LEARN

2. கங்கை:-

அவள் தன்னோடு ஒரு வாடையைக் கொண்டு வருகிறாள்.
வெளியேறும்போது அதைத் தன்பின்னே விட்டுச் செல்கிறாள். 
நாம் அதற்குப் பழகிவிட்டோம்.
அதை இந்த மக்கள் எப்போதும் கற்றுக்கொள்வதில்லை.

3. HOW THE ENGLISH LESSIONS ENDED ( ABOUT A MUSLIM GIRL)

4. RURAL SUITE :- NOTHING CHANGES HERE; NOT EVEN THE CLICHÉ THAT NOTHING CHANGES HERE ( SUPERSTITION)

5. FOR SATISH GUJRAL:-IS ABOUT A DEAF ARTIST. IT IS THE TASK OF LOVE AND IMMAGINATION TO HEAR WHAT CANT BE HEARD WHEN EVERYBODY SPEAKS.

6. POEM OF THE SEPARATION:-
ITS TRUE WE CANNOT LIVE ON ECHOS.
TEN THOUSAND MILES AWAY
YOU BECOME A SHOWER OF LETTERS.
I WANT YOU BACK
WITH THE ROUGH HAPPINESS YOU LIGHTLY WEAR.

6. பிரிவின் கவிதை:-

நாம் எதிரொலிகளில் வாழமுடியாதென்பது உண்மை.
பத்தாயிரம் மைல்களுக்கப்பாலிலிருந்து
நீ கடித மழை பொழிகிறாய்.
நான் உன்னைத் திரும்பப்பெற விழைகிறேன்.
நீ இலகுவாக அணிந்திருக்கும்  முரட்டுச் சந்தோஷத்தோடு.

7. ENTERTAINMENT:- [THE MONKEY SHOW]

8. DISTANCE:-
I WAIT FOR UNDERSTANDING
LOVE IS OUR FICTION
THE CLOSER YOU COME
THE FARTHER YOU MOVE.

8. இடைவெளி:-

நான் புரிதலுக்காகக் காத்திருக்கிறேன்.
காதல் நமது கோட்பாடு.
நெருங்கிவரும் அதே தூரம்
நீ விலகி செல்கிறாய்

டிஸ்கி :- என் பழைய டைரியில் இருந்த சிலவற்றுக்கு மொழிபெயர்ப்பு செய்துள்ளேன். சில கவிதைகள் இல்லாமல் குறிப்புகள் மட்டுமே இருக்கின்றன. 1983 டைரிக்குறிப்பிலிருந்து :)

Night of the Scorpion

I remember the night my mother
was stung by a scorpion. Ten hours
of steady rain had driven him
to crawl beneath a sack of rice.

Parting with his poison - flash
of diabolic tail in the dark room -
he risked the rain again.

The peasants came like swarms of flies
and buzzed the name of God a hundred times
to paralyse the Evil One.

With candles and with lanterns
throwing giant scorpion shadows
on the mud-baked walls
they searched for him: he was not found.
They clicked their tongues.
With every movement that the scorpion made his poison moved in Mother's blood, they said.

May he sit still, they said
May the sins of your previous birth
be burned away tonight, they said.
May your suffering decrease
the misfortunes of your next birth, they said.
May the sum of all evil
balanced in this unreal world

against the sum of good
become diminished by your pain.
May the poison purify your flesh

of desire, and your spirit of ambition,
they said, and they sat around
on the floor with my mother in the centre,
the peace of understanding on each face.
More candles, more lanterns, more neighbours,
more insects, and the endless rain.
My mother twisted through and through,
groaning on a mat.
My father, sceptic, rationalist,
trying every curse and blessing,
powder, mixture, herb and hybrid.
He even poured a little paraffin
upon the bitten toe and put a match to it.
I watched the flame feeding on my mother.
I watched the holy man perform his rites to tame the poison with an incantation.
After twenty hours
it lost its sting.

My mother only said
Thank God the scorpion picked on me
And spared my children.
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/Night-of-the-Scorpion#sthash.TnFTQYwl.dpuf

Night of the Scorpion

I remember the night my mother
was stung by a scorpion. Ten hours
of steady rain had driven him
to crawl beneath a sack of rice.

Parting with his poison - flash
of diabolic tail in the dark room -
he risked the rain again.

The peasants came like swarms of flies
and buzzed the name of God a hundred times
to paralyse the Evil One.

With candles and with lanterns
throwing giant scorpion shadows
on the mud-baked walls
they searched for him: he was not found.
They clicked their tongues.
With every movement that the scorpion made his poison moved in Mother's blood, they said.

May he sit still, they said
May the sins of your previous birth
be burned away tonight, they said.
May your suffering decrease
the misfortunes of your next birth, they said.
May the sum of all evil
balanced in this unreal world

against the sum of good
become diminished by your pain.
May the poison purify your flesh

of desire, and your spirit of ambition,
they said, and they sat around
on the floor with my mother in the centre,
the peace of understanding on each face.
More candles, more lanterns, more neighbours,
more insects, and the endless rain.
My mother twisted through and through,
groaning on a mat.
My father, sceptic, rationalist,
trying every curse and blessing,
powder, mixture, herb and hybrid.
He even poured a little paraffin
upon the bitten toe and put a match to it.
I watched the flame feeding on my mother.
I watched the holy man perform his rites to tame the poison with an incantation.
After twenty hours
it lost its sting.

My mother only said
Thank God the scorpion picked on me
And spared my children.
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/Night-of-the-Scorpion#sthash.TnFTQYwl.dpuf

Night of the Scorpion

I remember the night my mother
was stung by a scorpion. Ten hours
of steady rain had driven him
to crawl beneath a sack of rice.

Parting with his poison - flash
of diabolic tail in the dark room -
he risked the rain again.

The peasants came like swarms of flies
and buzzed the name of God a hundred times
to paralyse the Evil One.

With candles and with lanterns
throwing giant scorpion shadows
on the mud-baked walls
they searched for him: he was not found.
They clicked their tongues.
With every movement that the scorpion made his poison moved in Mother's blood, they said.

May he sit still, they said
May the sins of your previous birth
be burned away tonight, they said.
May your suffering decrease
the misfortunes of your next birth, they said.
May the sum of all evil
balanced in this unreal world

against the sum of good
become diminished by your pain.
May the poison purify your flesh

of desire, and your spirit of ambition,
they said, and they sat around
on the floor with my mother in the centre,
the peace of understanding on each face.
More candles, more lanterns, more neighbours,
more insects, and the endless rain.
My mother twisted through and through,
groaning on a mat.
My father, sceptic, rationalist,
trying every curse and blessing,
powder, mixture, herb and hybrid.
He even poured a little paraffin
upon the bitten toe and put a match to it.
I watched the flame feeding on my mother.
I watched the holy man perform his rites to tame the poison with an incantation.
After twenty hours
it lost its sting.

My mother only said
Thank God the scorpion picked on me
And spared my children.
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/Night-of-the-Scorpion#sthash.TnFTQYwl.dpu

4 கருத்துகள் :

வை.கோபாலகிருஷ்ணன் சொன்னது…

தங்களின் மொழியாக்கம் அருமை. பாராட்டுக்கள்.

வெங்கட் நாகராஜ் சொன்னது…

அருமையான மொழியாக்கம்....

பிரிவு - ரொம்பவும் பிடித்தது.

Thenammai Lakshmanan சொன்னது…

அஹா மிக்க நன்றி கோபு சார்

நன்றி வெங்கட் சகோ :) எனக்கும் அந்தக் கவிதை மிகவும் பிடித்தது.

Thenammai Lakshmanan சொன்னது…

வலைப்பதிவர் ஒற்றுமை ஓங்கட்டும்.!
என்றும் நம்முள் வலிமை பெருகட்டும்.!

கருத்துரையிடுக

சும்மா ( பத்தி ) உங்க கருத்தையும் பதிவு செய்ங்க :)

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