October 6, 2010

Amaake amaar moto thaaktey daao.

Continuing with my habit of translating songs that manage to become my obsession, I have translated the song 'Amaake amaar moto thaakte daao' from the soundtrack of the Bangla-film 'Autograph', into English. I have hardly stayed true to the pace and rhythm of the original, and have interpreted the atypical and unpredictably refreshing lyrics in my own way, and have tweaked a few words here and there for the sake of rhyme. Tell me if you like it. OR NOT.

Amaake amaar moto thaakte daao,
Aami nijeke nijer moto guchhiye niyechhi…
Jeta chhilona, chhilona, sheta na pawaii thaak,
Shob pele noshto jibon…

Tomar ei duniya’r jhapsha aalo,
Kichhu shondhe’r guro howa kaancher moto,
Jodi ude jete chaao tobe gaa bhashiye daao,
Doorbiney chokh rakhbo na na na na na na…

Ei jahaaj maastul chharkhaar,
Tobu golpo likhchhi panchbar,
Aami rakhte chaai na aar taar,
Kono raat dupoorer abdaar,
Tai cheshta korchhi Barbar,
Shaantrey paar khonjar…

Kokhono akash beye chup kore,
Jodi neme ashe bhalobasha khub bhore,
Chokh-bhanga ghumey tumi khunjona aamay,
Aashe paashe aami aar nei.

Amaar jonyo aalo jelo na keu,
Aami manusher shomudrey gunechhi dheu,
Ei station er chattorey hariye gechhi,
Shesh train e ghorey phirbo na na na…

Tomar roktey aachhe shopno joto,
Taara chhutchhey raatridin nijer moto,
Kokhono shomoy pele ektu bhebo,
Aanguler phankey aami koi?

Hisheber bhirey aami chaaina chhutey,
Joto shukno peyajkoli fridge er sheetey,
Aami obelar daal-bhaatey phuriye giyechhi,
Gelasher joley bhaashbo na na na…

Let me exist within my own,
I have reconciled myself with my reality.
That which has stayed unaccomplished,
Let it stay that way,
Excesses mar sanity.

This nebulous light of your numb world,
Feels like shattered-glass fragments of dusk.
Should desires of flight provoke you, fly,
But my binocular vision
Shall not follow you soar,
No, not even a chance…

This voyage of mine, and a mangled mast,
I pen my tale, in its fifth cast.
I shall give way no more,
To your requests, in their late-night rust.
So I try and repeat,
And swim through this distrust.

Whenever love seeps through your sky,
And its layers, in the hours of a violet dawn,
Even as soft-slumber nests on your lids,
Do not look around for me, I’m gone.

Do not bother to switch on the lights,
My vessel’s capsized among these waves of men.
I am lost forever within these station-walls.
I will not take the last train home, ever again.
No, not even a chance…

All your dreams housed in your veins,
They rush forth and back to your heart,
Should time permit, ask yourself sometime,
Why, from between your fingers, did I depart?

In this calculative, humdrum world I don’t
Sympathize with the beans shriveled up in the fridge.
I shall not float around any more in your water-glass.
(For)I begin and end with the lunch-porridge.
No, not even a chance…

1 comment:

T. Mukherjee said...

please read and criticise:

asking for a favour, for someone else.