THE PASSIONATE VERSES & OTHER TRANSLATIONS

-- Webpublished, March 2015 --

CONTENTS

1. The Passionate Verses (Thangaraj)
2. The Lament of Salim (Vincent)
3. Your Penance Will Bear Fruit ... (G. Arasendiran)

1. THE PASSIONATE VERSES

(translated from the Tamil of Thangaraj, July 1989)

Prologue

I spend my days in expectations. I firmly believe that they are not in vain. There seems to be a pleasure in expectancy. That is why I still expect thee with love.

When I sleep with thoughts of thee, the dreams that come to me seem real. I wake up and find it to be a mirage. Again when I endeavour to sleep, thoughts of thee fill my mind and Sleep refuses to show her face. There is pleasure in remaining awake with thoughts of thee. That is why I love to remain awake.

1. The greatness of love is its tenderness. On the stage of such tenderness do my verses appear.

2. Ah, noble maiden, thinkest thou that ‘tis thy shadow which followest thee! It is no shadow, my Love, but myself.

3. O, open slightly thine eyelids! Therein wait passionate verses for me to read.

4. There is a pen to write with, and paper to write on; but what is the use? I need thee to see and sing of … Come!

5. Wherever I may be, the voice with which I call thee will knock at the door of thy house. This voice is not meant for thee to open the door of thy house, but to keep unclosed the door of thine heart.

6. My paths lie dark before me. O turn thine eyes this side that I may, in whose light, walk victoriously!

7. With hopes that thou wilt play soothing ragas, I sent to the touch of thine eyes the veena of mine heart … Don’t send to my address disappointments alone.

8. Before I met you, “Love is false!” said I. But thou tore apart with the thorn of thine eye the false veil that I wore, and thou spread thyself across the canvas of mine heart. There do I offer worship to thee. Thou hast in thine heart imprisoned me, who thought to have greater liberty than the wind. O, there do not weigh me down with the burden of sorrow!

9. Your lovely eyes know only to sow the seed but not to reap its fruit.

10. Shouldst thou not speak to me? When thou seest me, shouldst thou not speak to me? Why not thou, though silence is the best of languages, choose another to converse with me! You needst must reply, else my breath will take wings for one last kiss.

11. Perchance that she was born in the thunder-rain season of April, she raineth the rain of silence!

12. Perchance that she was born in the peak of summer, she speaketh the language of silence.

13. Teach me the language of thy silence, with which I’ll sing songs forever and ever.

14. Of course, there’s no difference between a rose and thy lips — but that is no reason why you should make thine eyes thorns to torment me!

15. While we in our eyes played a soul-moving raga with a lullabic cadence, thou departed from my side. — O golden Star, thou hast shattered the glory of my dreams.

16. With tears that lave my cheeks, and a troubled breast, I wait for thee. Thou comest not. Should dreams of thee, too, come not to me!

17. Like a cloud dissolved in rain, when will my sorrows be dissolved by thee!

18. My Love, the tears that spring from the fountain of mine eyes flow like a brook and then becomes the sea. Do you doubt it? Then taste of it. You’ll find it salty.

19. The thorns that lie on the wayside hurt thy feet. Do you know why? Just to pin-point to thee thy indifference to me!

20. My Love, the path thou treadest is no path but mine heart.

21. The sad songs that arose in mine heart, I desired to compose in many ragas — but I was able to play only the raga of silence.

22. Though thou art beyond mine arm’s reach, I’m still alive ‘cause thou art within mine heart’s reach.

23. Write to me a letter that thou lovest me, or just write that thou lovest no other. I’ll rest in peace.

24. My Love, when thou hearest the news of my death, then with thy silence (with which thou killest me now) pay to me salutations — and let that, at least, be true to me.

Epilogue

Here end my passionate verses which have been wounding thee. My heart-cries, which have been tormenting thee, now begin their last pilgrimage. My thoughts, which have in vain lived for dreams of thee, have done with their journey and have begun a new life, calm and lovely and sweet.

2. THE LAMENT OF SALIM

(translated from the Tamil of Vincent, August 1989)

— Salim the son of Akbar was in love with Anarkali the court danseuse. Hearing of the affair from his minister, who saw them together by chance, Akbar orders Anarkali to be entombed alive. Salim rushes to save her, but … alas! He is too late. His lady-love had fallen prey to the shameful act. He cries. —

Anar ... Anar ... Anar ... “Salim, Salim” thou used to call me to thine heart’s delight. O Heavenly Light, they have extinguished the eternal lamp. Anar, is “grave” the gift of wild wolves (to be united by the bonds of love) and judgment of scoundrels?

May the rule of the heartless who have murdered thee, saying that my seeing thee and loving thee to be a crime, perish. May the rule of Akbar who is treacherous to his conscience become dust with dust.

Anar ... Anar! O Fruit, Moon void of blemish! Is death the injustice from Akbar’s reign? Immaculate One! O Flower! Thou, alas, buried by parochial mortals! Disguised with false affections, Badhusha has been treacherous.

O Lady Lamp! O Tender Flower! O Statue of Marble! O they have revenged on us! O Anarkali, thy absence to the world will be like a night without the moon! O Honey-tongued Lady, shall my arms, which have embraced thee, embrace the grave? Alas ... my Love! What can I do? In whom confide?

Ere the winking of an eye they raised a tomb and hast sent thee, O Beacon, to Time! O those arrogant ones with no justice in their hearts, our innocent love rejecting but freeing me, have taken thy life, have shattered us! The arrogant rulers have shed thy gore, O my Red Rose! Anar ... ! Anar ... ! O my Kurinji, falling a prey to Fate, thou hast become a corpse in the grave! O Tender Heart, they have poisoned us! Despite protests they have performed the wicked deed.

If “grave” be the gift of God for love, then this world will be filled with graves a-plenty! If my showing spotless love for thee — if my thoughts to wed thee be a crime, then where is a place here for love? And life for virtue? If this be the state of Badhusha’s son, then the rest are as good as dead!

The harem is the place for the lustful rogues to spoil a woman! If one thinks to wed a lady, the lady gets the grave and the thinker is left alone! Let our life be an example of love set to destroy this injustice. Let the treacherous play of the blind go to pieces! Anar, forgive me! I came to see thee a bride; but, alas, I see thou now a corpse. — O Grave, who hast taken my beloved! O take on thy chore to destroy the ones who love!

(He dashes his head on the tomb)

O Grave! To end thy never-ending ire accept as repast the twain who were in steadfast love.

(He looks at the murderers)

O ye who bend thy suppliant knee to the son of him who wears the crown, why hesitate?

If Salim and Anar cannot lead a life of happiness in this world filled with vanity-devils, grant us leave to go to the other world! — O Grave, who hast gulp’d the Eye of mine eye! Lay me, who stole her heart, on Death’s lap!

If the country needs Salim alone; why, if Death be the way out for me ... let Emperor Akbar rest in peace! If that the future exists be true … if Love be wrong … why, if to love be a crime, if this world be filled with falsehood, if wedlock should be bound by caste and creed … then History holds a place only to rogues and hypocrites! Here accept Salim’s life too!

(He dashes violently against the grave. Blood flows. The soldiers try in vain to prevent him)

O Grave! Let the false philosophy that those who have done no wrong should punished be, take root — O let it take root! O let this wide land, once ruled by the righteous, now belong to those unrighteous! Here ... do thy work of destruction! But one thing is sure: Love will live (should live!), the relation between the hearts twain will live, will live! Anar, ride we shall to the moon of the sky! Anar ... Ana—!

(He falls dead on the grave)

3. YOUR PENANCE WILL BEAR FRUIT; YOUR NAME WILL LAST FOR EVER

(translated from the Tamil of Dr. G. Arasendiran, written in memory of Parvathiammal, mother of Velupillai Prabhakaran, 21 February 2011)

Dwelling in the Himalaya,
Mother Parvathiamma!
Name of Goddess is thine,
Now a being divine!

Velan, our victorious Lord,
Primal being and primal source;
Kalan who destroys our foes;
Karikalvalavan our protector;
The Cheran who raised for Kannagi a stone;
And great Madurai’s Pandyan king —
All these in one mingled form,
You gave birth to Prabhakaran;
O mother, our respects to you,
Our respects with a bowing head!

To perpetuate the name
Of Velupillai the brave,
You, mother tigress,
Bore a tiger Prabhakaran;
O mother, our respects to you,
Our respects with a bowing head!

For eight crore Tamils
To find a footing sure,
O mother Himalaya,
You bore a lofty peak!
O mother, our respects to you,
Our respects with a bowing head!

The troops he recruited
For asserting our rights;
He raised the waves unceasing;
He tarred all foxiness,
Destroyed the traitors
And took the land by storm!
Such a person, you bore, O mother tempest!
O mother, our respects to you,
Our respects with a bowing head!

To erase the name of the Sinhala
Who destroyed our homes and our kin,
You bore Prabhakaran the thunderbolt,
O mother, O vast firmament!
O mother, our respects to you,
Our respects with a bowing head!

The Tamils of the world
With emotions of the heart
Shed tears overflowing
And clasp your feet
To utter a word,
To utter a word.

Will my son light my pyre,
Will my son light my pyre,
Crores of times you may have thought
And become weary and dejected
With the pulse beating low!

Your son will light the pyre,
Your son will light the pyre!
He will erupt like a volcano,
Destroy the thundering Sinhala;
And tossing him into the flames,
Your son will light his pyre,
Your son will light his pyre.

Your penance will bear fruit,
Your name will last for ever.
O mother, our respects to you,
Our respects with a bowing head!