Author: Leonora

Harivansh Rai Bachchan
आज मुझसे बोल, बादल! ,~1930

आज मुझसे बोल, बादल!

तम भरा तू, तम भरा मैं,
ग़म भरा तू, ग़म भरा मैं,
आज तू अपने हृदय से हृदय मेरा तोल, बादल
आज मुझसे बोल, बादल!

आग तुझमें, आग मुझमें,
राग तुझमें, राग मुझमें,
आ मिलें हम आज अपने द्वार उर के खोल, बादल
आज मुझसे बोल, बादल!

भेद यह मत देख दो पल-
क्षार जल मैं, तू मधुर जल,
व्यर्थ मेरे अश्रु, तेरी बूंद है अनमोल, बादल
आज मुझसे बोल, बादल!

Harivansh Rai Bachchan, कविताएँ बच्चन कीं चयन अमिताभ बच्चन का, Bhartiya Jnanpith, Delhi, 2012, p. 23

Talk to me today, clouds!

Filled with darkness are you, filled with darkness am I,
Filled with sorrow are you, filled with sorrow am I,
Today weigh out your heart against my heart, cloud
Today you with your heart weigh it against mine
Talk to me today, clouds!

Fire inside you, fire inside me,
Melody inside you, melody inside me,
Come let’s meet today with our doors open, cloud
Talk to me today, clouds!

Don’t see these differences for a moment-
I am salty water, you are sweet water,
Worthless is my tear, precious is your drop,
Talk to me today, clouds!

Translated by Mehak Burza

The poem is written by Harivansh Rai Bachchan, father of the famous Bollywood celebrity Amitabh Bachchan. When it comes to introduction, Harivansh Rai Bachchan (1907-2003) needs none. Writing majorly as a rebellious poet of the Nayi Kavita literary movement in the early decades of the twentieth century, his writings are considered a landmark in the domain of Hindi literature as they explore a myriad of themes.

Sound is often the most powerful device for expressing emotions. It however is accompanied with different emotional connotations. Some are in the habit of blurting out their emotional feelings, which manifests in ways such as singing or expressing themselves aloud. Others prefer to be surrounded by silence, which surprisingly holds meaning for them. Yet others try and find an objective correlative, which for them is the formula for their silence. Such is the thematic concern of the above poem.

The poet here is in the epitome of his silence. His gloomy and sullen mood finds sudden a parallel in an inanimate object – the clouds. The poet pleads to the clouds to speak to him, which will lift up his mood. Highlighting the objective correlativeness of their situation, the poet speaks of the similarities between them reflecting in darkness, sorrow, fire and melody. He further requests the clouds not to see the differences between them and sees himself as salty water with worthless tears. The poet wants an emotional unison between him and the clouds; a unison triggered by their silences. The poet therefore beseeches the clouds to speak to him (in any form), a sign,
which will ease him from his present state of awkward silence. This thus becomes the poet’s only way of expressing his emotion, which here is silence.

Prepared by Mehak Burza

Giuseppe Masini
1999

INVERNI

A la matina, verzendo la porta
te vedei na roba quasi de incanto,
che e faséa desmentegar fredo
e pensieri: sui rami calinverna
come se fate e maghi ne la note
avesse doparà fili d’argento
par ricamar i disegni piu béi
e darghe vita nova ai rami sechi
di àlbari che gh’era dapartuto.
Dai copi de le case candeloti
tondi de giazzo, che paréa cane
d’organo pronte a sonar na musica
de quele de Nadal o de carneval.
Sui fianchi de le strade o ni fossi,
soto seràie querte de lustrini,
l’acqua giazzà paréa invitarne
a metar da na parte le cartéle
con i so libri par far sbrissiaròle
dove le sgiàvare con le so sole
de legno piene de broche volava
come le fusse patini d’argento:
el fià se giazzava su boche e nasi,
un rugolòn ogni tanto, ma l’era
un gran divertimento, che qualche olta
ne faséa passar de mente scola
e maestri e anca la paura
de qualche scopazzòn tra copa e col.
Rivà la sera, intorno al fogolàr,
paràimo via el fredo del giorno,
con le buganze che le ne sfogàva
ni diéi gonfi, magnandone tochi
de fogazzìn che la mama avéa coto
nel tèsto soto la ҫénar, scoltando
le bele fole che la ne contava
con la so voҫe tranquila la nona
fin che la ne giustava braghe e calze.

L’Approdo, 1999, p. 118

WINTERS

In the morning, opening the door,
you could see something enchanting,
that made you forget the cold
and your troubles: rime on the boughs
as if fairies and wizards, over night
had used silver strings
to embellish the most beautiful paintings
and give new life to the dry branches
of all the trees one could see.
From the roofs, crystals of ice
like candles and
organ-pipes ready to play carols
or carnival songs.
Along the road and in the canals,
under shining covers
the frozen water seemed to welcome you
to put aside schoolbags
and all the books to slide on the ice
where our shoes
made with wood slippered
as if they were silver ice skates:
our breath froze on our mouths and noses,
a sudden fall, but it was
great joy, and sometimes
it made us completely forget about school
and teachers and even of the fear
of being in trouble.
At night, sitting close to the fire,
we fought the cold of the day,
and frostbites
on our hands, by eating good pieces
of the cake mum had cooked
in the ashes, while listening
to those nice tales that grandma
with her tranquil voice
while mending socks and pants told us.

Giuseppe Masini was born in Bovolone, in the region of Veneto, northeast of Italy. He spent his entire life in that place, the area of the Po river valley, that he loved very much. He was a high school professor of Italian for several years and mayor of Bovolone. During his life, he published two poetry collections, L’attesa (1983) and L’approdo (1984). The poem here presented is from his first collection. Giuseppe Masini wrote part of his poems in Italian and part in the dialect that people who live in Bovolone and surroundings speak.

There are numerous dialects in Italy. They follow different phonetic rules and have diverse vocabulary. Each region of Italy has its own dialects; they are many and vary from place to place. Like traditional meals, dialects are part of the collective memory of communities. Strings of memories keep together dialects and food tradition, landscape and history of the places where they are spoken.

In the poem Inverni, there are two words that exemplify this bound. Years ago, winters were rigid in the North East of Italy, humid and cold. The “calinverna” is the frost that covers everything during the night and shines in the sunlight. The standard Italian (non dialect) word for it is “galaverna.” The number of syllables does not vary from the first word to the second, but there are variations in the consonants and in their phonetics. Another word that specifically belong to the dialect spoken in the area of Bovolone is “fogazzìn.” A “fogazzìn” is similar to a doughnut in the shape but it is not fried. Fogazzìn comes from the Italian word “focaccia,” which, unlike the “fogazzìn,” can generally be either salty or sweet. Further examples of words in dialect that completely differ from Italian language are: seràie and sgiàvare. In Italian, these words respectively correspond to: lastre (sheets) and zoccoli (clogs).

Like a picture, this poem captures images of collective memory. It creates a string of remembrances that the inhabitants of Bovolone and surroundings can follow back and forth, connecting the past and the present of Italian cultural traits. Each dialect is the shared memory of a community. Because they convey memory and sense of belonging, dialects survive among Italian communities abroad as well.

Prepared by Leonora Masini