Hungry Stones - 5 Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Hungry Stones - 5

(A poetic translation of a story by Rabindranath Tagore, kśhdhārto pāśhāņa, Hungry Stones, for convenience split in 13 parts) . It is set in blank verse with stanzas that rhymed in between.


V

In time the night turned to dawn, I could see,
It all appeared like queer fantasy.
Much relieved, I put on my office hat,
Hurriedly on to my horse carriage sat,
Driving away my self to sink in work,
Returned late, but before it was too dark,
Strange, but drawn as if to my weary house,
Perhaps an unfulfilled desire to douse,
As if someone awaited there for me,
I felt so keen that strange someone to see,
In startled look saw that dark desolate path,
My carriage rattled dust giving me bath,
Soon reached my place filled with palatial frills,
Vast and vacant it stood on gloomy hills.

The first floor led to a spacious hall,
Its roof stretched over ornamental hood
Resting on three pillars— massive and tall,
Groaning, weighed down by their own solitude,
The daylight dimmed, the lamps not yet lighted,
The door when opened great bustle greeted

Me, as if a throng of souls were let loose,
Confused, rushing through doors, windows obtuse,
Crowding corridors and space of all shape,
And fraught with fear they made hurried escape.

Seeing no one I stood tense, bewildered,
My hair stood up with half delight, half fear,
Faint scent of attar and odd unguents
Of old filled my nostrils, half blocked by dust,
Drenched was I in darkness of eyes and mind,
Groping with an endless rows of pillars,
Listening to the gurgle of fountains
Splashing cascades on marble floor below,
A strange tune on harp, sundry ornaments
Jingling, tinkle of anklets, clang of bells
Tolling the hours, the din of the crystal
Pendants of chandeliers shaken by breeze,
The song of bulbuls hanging in cages
In corridors, cackle of storks nearby,
All made when a bizarre baroque music.

A spell of intangible weird vision
Then came upon, over-powering me,
A dream-like spell the sole reality,
The world around appearing like a dream,
The real me was not what I would deem,
But looked like strange ludicrous illusion!
And standing in the gloom of fuzzy fluff,
Ah, I all but burst into a horse-laugh.
To add, when my servant brought a lamp,
I wondered if he thought I was rank mad,
But sure a decent salary I earned,
The world around though a full circle turned,
Doubtless, great bards do muse, I imagined,
And well, laugh delighted is, and no sin.
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Translations | 05.03.13 |