translations

Poems

‘Far away . . . far, far away—

My mind wanders . . . roving, rambling—

With the tune of the flute tootling along . . .

Which makes the gentle wind weep;

The dispassionate path that loses itself—

All the way in Eternity—

Is the path chosen by my begging, hungry soul—

To wander into which wonderland? ‘

—Translation of Rabindranath Tagore’s 1911 song ‘Dure Kothay Dure Dure' 

—English translation by Dyutiman Mukhopadhyay.

The motif is Inspired by Krzysztof Kieślowski’s fervently lyrical film—‘The Double Life of Veronique’ (1991) notable for Sławomir Idziak's trance-like cinematography and Zbigniew Preisner's haunting operatic score—a film which offers a deep insight into the subjects of identity and love through the characters of two physically identical women who never knew each other, and yet connected through a mysterious and emotional bond that goes beyond verbal communication and regional barriers.

April 30, 2020;

Picture © DYUTIMAN MUKHOPADHYAY.

‘There is Despair and There is Death—

There is the fire of Longing Breath;

Yet the Calm and Yet the Bliss—

Rise from the Elysium

Of Infinite Peace. . .’

—Translation of the starting lines of Tagore’s 1903 Song ‘Achhe Dukkhho, Achhe Mrrityu’ (Grief There Is, And Death);

by Rabindranath Tagore; Category: Puja [Worship/Devotional] from—Swarobitan:27.

—English translation by Dyutiman Mukhopadhyay.

May 14, 2020;

Picture © DYUTIMAN MUKHOPADHYAY.

I took this picture being inspired by a scene in Andrei Tarkovsky's ‘Mirror’, 1975. Tarkovsky, whom I regard as the greatest filmmaker of all time, shaped my spiritual approach to art which is liberated from the prison of intellect—especially his concept of time-pressure—using which he prayed through his films and tried to comprehend the meaning of existence.

The following poem is my effort to translate an excerpt from a haunting Bengali-song 'Aaloshyo (idleness)' written by Anupam Roy and sung by Surangana Banerjee in the film 'Uma ' (2018) which goes with the heart of this image:

In those summer morn—

The curtain swayed—

Gently swayed—

And made me float. . .

Gently float. . .

The eyes—

Still lulled me to sleep—

The bed—

Still held me deep—

And the tender breeze—

Rocked me on. . .

And on. . .

As if then my mind woke up—

In a distant wonderland—

Like balls of cotton—

In the unknown blue—

You can—

You can hang on a little more—

I am almost there. . .

You can't—

Can't close your eyes—

Not yet. . .

I am near. . .

There’re still so many deep breaths to take.

—English translation by Dyutiman Mukhopadhyay.

December 9, 2019;

P.S. ‘In the grass’ is a painting by Arthur Hughes (1864 – 1865).

Picture © DYUTIMAN MUKHOPADHYAY.

She wears her hair in tousled curls—

Weary spasms savour her thirst, her curse—

She clings to the sweat of her bosom

In the sultry heat of the summer verse.

Oh Cloud, My messenger! Appease her now—

Consume her through dark, rain, and fire—

The consummate bliss, union—Let it be you!

While I remain alone and one—a prisoner.

— Adaptation of Verse 8, Part1 of the poem Meghaduta (The Cloud Messenger) by classical Sanskrit author Kālidāsa (4th–5th century CE) .

— June 25, 2024.

— Photograph, June 23, 2024, India.

Camera—Xiaomi Redmi Note 8 Pro.