تاگور در تهران - 1311 - با نمايندگان مجلس
شعري ديگر از رابيند رانات تاگور.
تقديم مي كنم به وحيد عزيز كه آن را از من خواسته بود.
مي دانم
آن روز خواهد آمد
روزي كه
تصوير اين دنيا در چشم من
ناپديد خواهد شد
و زندگي
در سكوت مرا ترك خواهد كرد
و پرده ي آخر
بر چشمان من كشيده خواهد شد
اما ستارگان
چون شبهاي دوشين خواهند نگريست
و سپيده
چون روزهاي رفته دوباره خواهد دميد
و زمان
چون امواج خروشان دريا
هجوم خواهد آورد
و شادي ها و رنج ها را
به هر سو پرتاب خواهد كرد
هرگاه به پايان لحظه هايم مي انديشم
ديوار لحظه ها مي شكند
و در نور مرگ
دنياي تو را مي بينم
با همه ي گنج هايش
كه بي رنج حاصل مي شود
چه باشكوه است حقيرترين جايگاهش
چه باشكوه است پست ترين پايگاهش
هر آنچه داشتم
و هرآنچه با حسرت
آرزويش را داشتم
همه بر باد باد
بگذار تا آن را داشته باشم
كه ناديده انگاشتم
و بر آن تحقير روا دشتم
Last Curtain
I know that the day will come
when my sight of this earth shall be lost,
and life will take its leave in silence,
drawing the last curtain over my eyes.
Yet stars will watch at night,
and morning rise as before,
and hours heave like sea waves casting up pleasures and pains.
When I think of this end of my moments,
the barrier of the moments breaks
and I see by the light of death
thy world with its careless treasures.
Rare is its lowliest seat,
rare is its meanest of lives.
Things that I longed for in vain
and things that I got
---let them pass.
Let me but truly possess
the things that I ever spurned
and overlooked.
I know that the day will come
when my sight of this earth shall be lost,
and life will take its leave in silence,
drawing the last curtain over my eyes.
Yet stars will watch at night,
and morning rise as before,
and hours heave like sea waves casting up pleasures and pains.
When I think of this end of my moments,
the barrier of the moments breaks
and I see by the light of death
thy world with its careless treasures.
Rare is its lowliest seat,
rare is its meanest of lives.
Things that I longed for in vain
and things that I got
---let them pass.
Let me but truly possess
the things that I ever spurned
and overlooked.
سلام بر سعدي زمان
پاسخحذفزندگي صحنه زيباي هنرمندي اوست
هر كسي نغمه خود خواند و از صحنه رود
خرم ان نغمه كه مردم بسپارند به دوست
بسيار زيبا و دوست داشتني مرگ را كه برخي آنرا ترسناك ميبينند نشان داده شده.
ترجمه شما بر زيبايي اين متن افزوده.
حق يارو ياورتان باد.
Dear friend -
پاسخحذفThanks a billion for such an amazing work! Your recent translations of Tagore poems are very lucid and wonderful. This poem comprises what I often think of as the tragedy or condition of the human being's existence on this planet.
How beautifully the real meaning that life always connotes has been uttered in the 3rd stanza and how brilliantly they have been translated by you. Time has its real implications in this poem and specifically in this stanza.
Even the darkness of death, as generally thought and believed, has been considered as light here. This is exquisite.
What do you think of this poem http://www.bartleby.com/105/72.html by John Donne, the great mysterious metaphysical poet and one of my favorites?
I managed to translate that, but was interrupted by the tragedy that happened.
Here are the first two lines:
"مشو مغرور بر خود اينچنين اي مرگ
گرت خوانند وحشتناك و دهشتناك
چرا كين نام را كي شايدت اين سان"
That we are all prevailed by death and all live in the world of the dead does mean to me.
Thanks a lot for sharing your marvelous works with me and us. They all do add to the value of my friendship with you and I hope to deserve your kindness for such a splendid gift, such a unique translation of this poem.