Poetry is what is lost/gained in translation (Robert Frost / Joesph Brodsky)

Poetry is what is lost in translation (Robert Frost)
Poetry is what is gained in translation (Joseph Brodsky)

Not exactly translation, what constitutes this blog is more of retelling of Tagore's songs in a different language.

Language is the filter through which we imbibe the world that we live in. And, like filters, all languages are slightly different and the expressions create a slightly different image as we retell our images. This is a humble, if not crazy, effort to rediscover the timeless songs that we have grown up with. Our humble 'Ode to Rabindranath Tagore'!!

October 8, 2010

Your Unsealed Gale (tomar khola haoa): তোমার খোলা হাওয়া

Eager for your gale to hit the sail
it matters not if it shreds the cloth
I am ready to sink, I am ready to drown
if 'tis your gale that brings the mast down.

The morn turned to noon, 'tis now evening
tied near the shore, don't keep me waiting
awake all night, for my sailor to arrive
in the shape of the storm and waves splashing high,
I am ready to sink, I am ready to drown
if 'tis your gale that brings the mast down.

I'll exult in the storm
laugh at his frown,
let the tempest untie me
I may sink, I may drown
but when the storm hits the sail
that is the moment I will be saved.
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