Kedarnath Singh's Hindi poetry, translated by Himanshi Pandey, and H.S. Komalesha
Jnanpith (2013) award winner Hindi poet ‘Kedarnath Singh’ is the key sign of contemporary poetry. He was born in ‘Chakia’ village in Ballia district of Uttar Pradesh in 1934. He completed his masters degree in 1956 from Banaras Hindu University. He acquired his PhD degree in 1964. He taught in many colleges and retired as head of the department, Jawaharlal Nehru University, Delhi. He composeed many books of poetry and prose. In the poetry of Kedarnath Singh, we saw a conflict between village and city. Coming from a rural background, he continued his literary journey in culture of urban cities. His major works include: ‘рдЕрднी рдмिрд▓्рдХुрд▓ рдЕрднी’ , ‘рдЬрдоीрди рдкрдХ рд░рд╣ी рд╣ै’, ‘рдпрд╣ाँ рд╕े рджेрдЦो’, ‘рдЕрдХाрд▓ рдоें рд╕ाрд░рд╕’, ‘рдЙрдд्рддрд░ рдХрдмीрд░ рдФрд░ рдЕрди्рдп рдХрд╡िрддाрдПँ’, ‘рдмाрдШ’, ‘рддॉрд▓्рд╕рддाрдп рдФрд░ рд╕ाрдЗрдХिрд▓’. Beside Jnanpith, he was honoured by many other awards such as Sahitya Academy Award for 'akal me saras' in 1989, Maithlisharan Gupt Award, Kumar Ashaan award (kerala), Dinkar Award, Jeewan Bharti Samman (Odissa), Vyaas Samman and many more.
рдЬैрд╕े рдЪींрдЯिрдпाँ рд▓ौрдЯрддी рд╣ैं
рдмिрд▓ों рдоें
рдХрдардлोрдб़рд╡ा рд▓ौрдЯрддा рд╣ै
рдХाрда рдХे рдкाрд╕
рд╡ाрдпुрдпाрди рд▓ौрдЯрддे рд╣ैं рдПрдХ рдХे рдмाрдж рдПрдХ
рд▓ाрд▓ рдЖрд╕рдоाрди рдоें рдбैрдиे рдкрд╕ाрд░े рд╣ुрдП
рд╣рд╡ाрдИ-рдЕрдб्рдбे рдХी рдУрд░
рдУ рдоेрд░ी рднाрд╖ा
рдоैं рд▓ौрдЯрддा рд╣ूँ рддुрдо рдоें
рдЬрдм рдЪुрдк рд░рд╣рддे-рд░рд╣рддे
рдЕрдХрдб़ рдЬाрддी рд╣ै рдоेрд░ी рдЬीрдн
рджुрдЦрдиे рд▓рдЧрддी рд╣ै
рдоेрд░ी рдЖрдд्рдоा
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Mother Tongue
Just as ants return
to their colonies;
and the woodpecker
to the woods;
as the planes –stretching
their wings
in the red sky –
return one after the other
to the hangar;
I return to you
my mother tongue
whenever long silence
chokes my throat
and grief devours my soul.
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Taken
from the collection Akal Mein Saaras
published in 1988.
рдмрд╕рди्рдд
рдФрд░
рдмрд╕рди्рдд рдлिрд░ рдЖ рд░рд╣ा рд╣ै
рд╢ाрдХुрди्рддрд▓
рдХा рдПрдХ рдкрди्рдиा
рдоेрд░ी
рдЕрд▓рдоाрд░ी рд╕े рдиिрдХрд▓рдХрд░
рд╣рд╡ा
рдоें рдлрд░рдлрд░ा рд░рд╣ा
рд╣ै
рдлрд░рдлрд░ा
рд░рд╣ा рд╣ै рдХि рдоैं рдЙрдаूँ
рдФрд░
рдЖрд╕-рдкाрд╕ рдлैрд▓ी
рд╣ुрдИ рдЪीрдЬ़ों рдХे
рдХाрдиों рдоें
рдХрд╣
рджूँ 'рдиा'
рдПрдХ
рджृрдв़
рдФрд░
рдЫोрдЯी-рд╕ी 'рдиा'
рдЬो
рд╕ाрд░ी рдЖрд╡ाрдЬ़ों рдХे
рд╡िрд░ुрдж्рдз
рдоेрд░ी
рдЫाрддी рдоें рд╕ुрд░рдХ्рд╖िрдд
рд╣ै
рдоैं
рдЙрдарддा рд╣ूँ
рджрд░рд╡ाрдЬ़े
рддрдХ рдЬाрддा рд╣ूँ
рд╢рд╣рд░
рдХो рджेрдЦрддा рд╣ूँ
рд╣िрд▓ाрддा
рд╣ूँ рд╣ाрде
рдФрд░
рдЬ़ोрд░ рд╕े рдЪिрд▓्рд▓ाрддा
рд╣ूँ –
рдиा...рдиा...рдиा
рдоैं
рд╣ैрд░ाрди рд╣ूँ
рдкрдЯрд░ी
рд╕े рдЪрд▓рддे рд╣ुрдП
рдоैंрдиे
рдХिрддрдиे рдмрд░рд╕ рдЧँрд╡ा
рджिрдпे
рдФрд░
рджुрдиिрдпा рд╕े рдХрд╣рддे
рд╣ुрдП
рд╣ाँ
рд╣ाँ рд╣ाँ...
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Spring
And here again comes spring
a page of Shakuntala
flutters
coming out from my almirah
asks me to rise
and say no
in the ears
of the
things that are spread around
to say no
a stern
and simple-no
that’s contrary to all the voices
and is locked in my heart
I rise
come forth to the door
take a glance at the city
wave my hand
and scream
No no no
it’s strange
that I lost several years
strolling by the streets
telling the world
Yes yes yes..
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Taken from the collection Yahaan Se Dekho, published in 1983
рдПрдХ рдкुрд░рдмिрд╣ा рдХा рдЖрдд्рдордХрде्рдп
(рдЧीрддा рд╢ैрд▓ी рдоें)
рдкрд░्рд╡рддों
рдоें рдоैं
рдЕрдкрдиे
рдЧाँрд╡ рдХा рдЯीрд▓ा
рд╣ूँ
рдкрдХ्рд╖िрдпों
рдоें рдХрдмूрддрд░
рднाрдЦा
рдоें рдкूрд░рдмी
рджिрд╢ाрдУं
рдоें рдЙрдд्рддрд░
рд╡ृрдХ्рд╖ों
рдоें рдмрдмूрд▓ рд╣ूँ
рдЕрдкрдиे
рд╕рдордп рдХे рдмрдЬрдЯ
рдоें
рдПрдХ
рджुрдЦрддी рд╣ुрдИ рднूрд▓
рдирджिрдпों
рдоें рдЪंрдмрд▓ рд╣ूँ
рд╕рд░्рджिрдпों
рдоें
рдПрдХ
рдмुрдв़िрдпा рдХा рдХंрдмрд▓
рдЗрд╕
рд╕рдордп рдпрд╣ाँ рд╣ूँ
рдкрд░
рдаीрдХ рд╕рдордп
рдмрдЧрджाрдж
рдоें рдЬिрд╕ рджिрд▓
рдХो
рдЪीрд░
рдЧрдИ рдЧोрд▓ी
рд╡рд╣ाँ
рднी рд╣ूँ
рд╣рд░
рдЧिрд░ा рдЦूрди
рдЕрдкрдиे
рдЕंрдЧोрдЫे рд╕े рдкोंрдЫрддा
рдоैं
рд╡рд╣ी рдкुрд░рдмिрд╣ा рд╣ूँ
рдЬрд╣ाँ рднी рд╣ूँ।
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An Autobiography
of an Eastern Wind
(Following Gita)
Among the mountains
I am a mound of my village
and among birds, a pigeon
In languages, I am oriental
and in direction, north
among the trees, a Babool
and in my time stock
an entry of a sad mistake
amidst rivers, I am Chambal
and in winters, a warm rug
of an old hag
At this moment, I am here
but exactly at this time
I reside in the heart
ripped apart by guns
in Baghdad
I am there as well
wiping each drop of blood
from my towel
I am the same Eastern wind
wherever I blow.
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Taken from the collection Srishti Par Pehera pubhished in 2014.
Translators' Bio:
Himanshi Pandey is a research scholar working in the area of Poetry Translation in the Department of Humanities and Social Sciences, Indian Institute of Technology Kharagpur, India.Email: pandey.himanshiapr@gmail.com
H.S. Komalesha is the author of Issues of Identity in Indian English Fiction published by Peter Lang, Oxford. Sahitya Akademi, the Academy of Letters in India has published two of his English translations: Anupama Niranjana (2008) and Rashtrakavi Kuvempu (2014). He teaches poetry and poetics in the Department of Humanities and Social Sciences, Indian Institute of Technology Kharagpur, India.
Email: hskomalesha@gmail.com
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