Wednesday, April 19, 2023

Pratik South Asia Special : Three poems by Pakistani-British poet Moniza Alvi

 

Moniza Alvi

Three Poems

from Fairoz : A book-length sequence of poems in which a schoolgirl Fairoz has been drawn to extremism and has become involved with Tahir, a man she has met online

 


1.

The eye

 

O hardware shop.

O faithful eye –

 

has it seen anything unusual?

The hardware shop is dark

 

and so closely forested.

How can the recording eye see?

 

But it does. It’s well-trained.

The forester is quick and deliberate.

 

The hammers are ranged like

strong-beaked birds

 

on the bristling wall-rack.

A claw hammer, that’s it.

 

And a club hammer.

Drops them into the open cage

 

of his basket. Adds long nails.

Hurries to the wooden counter.

 

Something not right? He’s too

intent, no glancing around.

 

Someone wants to hammer a nail

through the universe.

 

Does the eye weep?

The eye is dispassionate.

 

 

2.

She’s heard nothing from Tahir

 

‘Speak Soon’. That’s what he said.

‘Speak soon love you Fairoz.’

 

And now she  

 

              cuts herself on the ice of waiting

              cuts herself on the ice of not knowing

              cuts herself on the ice

 

3.

Call him three times

 

Tahir? said the woman in the wood.

Who’s Tahir? Oh you mean Abdul.

He’s really Abdul. Sometimes

Anwar. Names are a risk.

 

I don’t think you’ll see him,

not for a while. Maybe

not in this life.

He was always careful,

 

so skilled at

covering his tracks.

But it’s hard

to hide in these woods.

Don’t despair. Inshallah,

no one needs be lonely here.

Friendship, marriage –

just footsteps away.

 

But try calling him now.

Three times, once for each name.

Abdul – Anwar – Tahir.

He’ll answer, if he hasn’t moved on.

 

Moniza Alvi was born in Lahore and grew up in Hertfordshire. Three of her collections The Country at My Shoulder, Europa and At the Time of Partition, have been shortlisted for the T.S. Eliot Prize.

Moniza received a Cholmondeley Award in 2002.

 

 

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Friday, April 14, 2023

PRATIK CURRENT SOUTH ASIA ISSUE SPECIAL : American Poet and Translator Carolyne Wright on Collaborative Translation from Bengali—Patterns and Challenges

 

 Carolyne Wright

 

Collaborative Translation from Bengali—Patterns and Challenges

 


Because the two parts of greater Bengal—the Indian state of West Bengal, and the nation of Bangladesh—have been distinct political entities since 1947, in order to translate the work of Bengali women poets, I could not simply shuttle back and forth between the two states’ principal cities, Kolkata and Dhaka. I needed to live in one city at a time during two distinct fellowship periods (with thanks for those fellowships!), and undertake two discrete periods of fieldwork. It was fortunate that such was the case, because I was able to focus on the two Bengals separately, and come to understand their deep underlying similarities and shared history; as well as their individual differences of religion, religion-based customs and traditions, regional dialects, and recent political and social history. All of this information gave me greater insight into the literature I collected and translated, and into the lives of the women who had written it. 

Because my knowledge of Bengali was limited at the start of my project—to translate the best representative work by modern and contemporary West Bengali and Bangladeshi women poets for a comprehensive anthology—my translation efforts have been collaborative. Though my Bangla has improved—thanks in large part to the opportunities provided by fellowships to live and speak the language for a total of two years in Kolkata and two in Dhaka—I am acutely aware that many nuances still elude my grasp. Working with collaborators—in some cases the poets themselves—is painstaking and time-consuming, but it is satisfying to produce English versions that meet with the approval of both the original poet and non-Bengali readers: translations that sound natural in English, and remain faithful to the Bengali as well.

In Dhaka, I worked in much the same manner with Bangladeshi women poets as I had earlier with the women poets of West Bengal. For the poems of Shamim Azad, Dilara Hafiz, and Ruby Rahman, I collaborated with one of my staunchest translation collaborators, Syed Manzoorul Islam, Chair of Dhaka University’s English Department and a renowned writer and critic in his own right. We worked together—sometimes with one poet, other times with two, and on one occasion, all three poets with Manzoor and me—over the course of the nearly two years of my Fulbright fellowship period in Dhaka. We usually met in Manzoor’s large, breezy English Department office to read through each poem word for word, producing the first version in English that conveyed accurately the sense of the original Bengali.  For the poems of Nasima Sultana and Taslima Nasrin, I worked with Mohammad Nurul Huda, Director of the Bangla Academy, meeting in his office at that institution dedicated to the study of the Bengali language and culture. All of these poets had studied English, but like me with Bengali, they were comfortable working with a collaborator more fully versed in both languages.

By the time I met her, on one of her visits to Dhaka during my Fulbright stay there, Dilara Hashem had lived in the U.S. for the last few decades, working for Voice of America – Bangla Service in Washington, DC.  She was thus fluent in English and sensitive to American colloquialisms, and she and I translated her work together, with no intermediary, after I returned to the U.S.

With the work of all of these poets, the process was similar. Going through each original poem word for word, the collaborator and I produced a first version in English that conveyed accurately the sense of the original Bengali, even if the phrasing was clumsy. I copied out the literal word order, with subtleties such as idiomatic phrases, multiple entendres or word play, and level of diction—the formality or familiarity of verbs, pronouns, and other forms of address; and with nouns and adjectives—whether they were standard or colloquial Bengali (like common English words of Anglo-Saxon origin), or of “high” Sanskritic derivation, similar to words of Latin or Greek origin in English.  Each collaborator and poet also supplied cultural information built into the poem’s language through proverbial expressions, allusions to history or mythology, and references to customs and traditions Bengali readers would be familiar with. 

Then I combined elements from the word-for-word literal version and the relevant cultural information, to create an English version as faithful as possible to the original in meaning and tone, and also successful as a poem in its own right. At this stage I worked alone, with a Bengali-English dictionary for reference, but thinking and creating as a poet. My raw materials were those of the Bengali poet as glimpsed through the sensibility of the Bengali translator. Having immersed myself as best I could in the life of the original poem, I tried to write the poem as it might have been had Shamim, or Ruby, or Nasima, or Taslima, or either Dilara been writing in English in the first place! When my tentative final version of each poem was finished, I showed it once again to collaborator and poet. If there were any remaining inaccuracies, they were cleared up here. At that point, the translation was essentially complete. 

Besides the typical economy of phrasing in Bengali—created by compound verbs, inflection of nouns, and the lack of predicates (a challenge in all the work I have translated)—many of the poems are in form, and so I have tried to reflect their rhyming, and to a lesser extent their syllabic patterns. Since Bengali, like Italian and Spanish and other Romance languages, is rhyme-rich, with many words ending in vowels or a few key consonants, it is easy to rhyme—not so in rhyme-poor English. For many translations, I have had to resort to slant rhyme to reflect, at least partially, the full rhyme of the original poems. No wonder poetry translation takes so much time for relatively few lines, but it is an engrossing and rewarding process, and the need to work collaboratively brings the translator much closer to the poets and their worlds!

 

American poet and translator Carolyne Wright spent four years on Indo-U. S. Sub-commission and Fulbright Senior Research fellowships in Kolkata, India, and Dhaka, Bangladesh, collecting and translating the work of Bengali women poets and writers. Another published collection is The Game in Reverse: Poems of Taslima Nasrin. Wright has published five books and four chapbooks of poetry, a book of essays, and three bilinguals (Spanish-English). Carolyne’s own most recent book is This Dream the World: New & Selected Poems, which received ten Pushcart Prize nominations.

 

 

 

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