Account, A Poem By Czeslaw Milosz In Hindi Translation Poem by Ravi Kopra

meri bewakoofi ki history se
baDay granth likhay ja sakte hain

kuch honge mere moorakh-pan k
jasiay bhonwray ko agar pata hai
k jal jayega shamaa ke sholay se
phir bhi wo uski taraf chakar lagata rehta hai

kuch hon gay chinta main shanti lanay k liye
aur kuch isharay-e-hidayat-e-na-andazgi k

main alag se likhooN gi apni khushi aur ghamandi k daastaN
jab main logon k saath un main doobi hue the
aur log chalte the la-parvahi se ucHalte hue apni tees mar khani main

un sab logon ka ek hi mool mantar tha - khawaish
haey! un sub main main hi akeli aisi hoti
main un logon k saath un jaisi hi ban-na chahti the
aur darti the ki mera khumar theek nahin hai

meri bewakoofi ki kahani ab na likhi jayegi
kyon k main ab budDi ho gayi hoon aur isay likhna bahut mushkil hai

***

the original poem


The history of my stupidity would fill many volumes.

Some would be devoted to acting against consciousness,
Like the flight of a moth which, had it known,
Would have tended nevertheless toward the candle's flame.

Others would deal with ways to silence anxiety,
The little whisper which, though it is a warning, is ignored.

I would deal separately with satisfaction and pride,
The time when I was among their adherents
Who strut victoriously, unsuspecting.

But all of them would have one subject, desire,
If only my own -but no, not at all; alas,
I was driven because I wanted to be like others.
I was afraid of what was wild and indecent in me.

The history of my stupidity will not be written.
For one thing, it's late. And the truth is laborious.


Berkeley,1980.