Wednesday 21 June 2017

DEATH ( Translated into French )

Dear friends
This is the eleventh poem of mine  which has been translated into French by none other than Honourable Athanase Vantchev de Thracy, World President of Poetas del Mundo , undoubtedly one of the greatest poets of contemporary French.
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 Death”
Our seers say
is evident
The ultimate destination of life
No body, no face
Life is transient
Oh dear, why fear
Embrace it with grace”

What a claim?
treat it with disdain
death is human
in flesh and blood
moving around, around us
why destiny to blame ?

Behold
skeltoned beggar
starving farmers
terminally ill patients
sex-workers
locked out laborers
young widow of a martyr
victim of rape
refugee in own country
mentally and physically caged
wronged by the system
in every way and shape
death personified at its best
north, south, east or west
living dead
in them death manifest.

Death
inherent and visible in
overboard authority
merciless terrorists
misguided egoist
deadly adulterist
drunken rich brat motorist.

Death is lurking in forms
having flesh, blood, body and face
without heart and soul
nothing to embrace
but to wither and fade
with charm and grace
if destined and ordained
in a natural way.

That is
CHEATING DEATH
attaining ‘ mokhsha’*
our ultimate goal
putting to the rest
our own soul.  
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All rights reserved/Tribhawan Kaul

*liberation of soul

LA MORT

 Nos voyants disent :
« La mort est, à l’évidence,
La destination finale de la vie,
Pas de corps, pas de visage,
La vie ne fait que passer,
Oh chers, pourquoi en avoir peur
Enlaçons-la avec grâce ».

Que pouvons-nous lui réclamer ?
Traitons-la avec dédain,
La mort est humaine,
Faite de chair et de sang,
Elle rôde autour de nous –
Pourquoi blâmer le destin ?


Regardez bien
Le mendiant squelettique,
Les paysans affamés,
Les malades en phase terminale,
Les travailleuses du sexe,
Les ouvriers mis à la porte,
La jeune veuve d'un martyr
Victime d'un viol,
Le réfugié dans son propre pays,
Mentalement et physiquement en cage,
Écrasé par le système.
La mort se manifeste
Dans tous les êtres
Idéalement personnifiée
De toutes les façons et sous toutes les formes
Au nord, au sud, à l’est et à l’ouest.


La mort
Est inhérente et perceptible
Dans les autorités écrasantes,
Les terroristes impitoyables
Les égoïstes dévoyés
Les amants adultères criminels
Le riche jeune chauffard ivre.
 
La mort rôde sous mille formes
Qui ont une chair, du sang, un corps et un visage,
Privée de cœur et d'âme
On ne peut l’enlacer,
Mais à son approche
Tout se dessèche et se flétrit.
Ces formes ne sont privées ni de charme ni de grâce
Surtout si elles sont ordonnées
Selon les lois de la nature.

C'est
TROMPER LA MORT
Que d’atteindre la « moksha » *
Notre but ultime,
Qui assure le repos
De notre âme.
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*moksha : selon l’hindouisme, la libération ultime de l’âme du cycle des réincarnations.
Translated into French by Athanase Vantchev de Thracy


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Born on January 3, 1940, in Haskovo, Bulgaria, the extraordinary polyglot culture studied for seventeen years in some of the most popular universities in Europe, where he gained deep knowledge of world literature and poetry.
Athanase Vantchev de Thracy is the author of 32 collections of poetry (written in classic range and free), where he uses the whole spectrum of prosody: epic, chamber, sonnet, bukoliket, idyll, pastoral, ballads, elegies, rondon, satire, agement, epigramin, etc. epitaph. He has also published a number of monographs and doctoral thesis, The symbolism of light in the poetry of Paul Verlaine's. In Bulgarian, he wrote a study of epicurean Petroni writer, surnamed elegantiaru Petronius Arbiter, the favorite of Emperor Nero, author of the classic novel Satirikoni, and a study in Russian titled Poetics and metaphysics in the work of Dostoyevsky.

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5 comments:

  1. Pintu Mahakul
    This is a pleasurable and very good news that your poem is translated in to French. Congratulations sir! Having a great commentary on this encourages more. This is an amazing poem on death topic very well crafted.
    June 22 at 9:00am
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  2. Tushima Mashelkar
    Thats terrific..must share with eshwari too..she is learning french
    June 22 at 2:53pm
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  3. Sagar Kataria
    Sagar Kataria The modern death indeed can be transcripted into myriad ways, the one being in your poem formulate the kosher truth of being alive, or in other words being not dead...
    The fear of being alive is more than the lurking belief to embrace death these days. The numerology in counting days, months, years and decades is our ultimate goal, we all crave to get used to our way of living, so very soon that death seems certain. Of course, the one who face this syndrome in normal course of every day life is ascertained in your second paragraph...
    Who doesn't want to live or may I say who doesn't want to die...these two questions while reading seem to be poles apart in entirety the but I believe these are synonyms of one life which happen to circumspect our mind and body, in every breath...
    The ultimate goal of life is to attain nirvana, the beautiful part of life is that we all begin to traverse the course while alive...reading religious scriptures, meditation, congregations, we begin to follow various seers and their commandments, but Tribhawan Kaul...the beauty of life is being not alive, the beauty of life is putting in rest our own soul, which is never ours...
    June 22 at 5:47pm
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    Tribhawan Kaul
    Death has never been pysical only. Death also menifest itself in various form in livings too. Living Dead. Yes, physcial death means the end of body not the soul. Thanks for you interesting analogy.Eloquent indeed. :)
    June 22 at 10:17pm
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  4. V A Sambandam
    Very happy to hear that 11th time ur poem,translated in French.Hearty congrats & wish u get name & international fame.
    June 22 at 5:59pm
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  5. Mridula Menon
    Death is perhaps the only impartial deed that treats us alike, be it a king or a slave....your poem, respected Tribhawan ji, reminds me of the poem ...Death the Leveller by James Shirley...... Death lays his icy hand on kings:
    Sceptre and Crown
    Must tumble down,
    And in the dust be equal made
    With the poor crookèd scythe and spade........Here the poet has given death a twist in its fate, saying we defeat death by uniting with our soul......Very well composed poem...simple yet so profound in meaning.
    June 22 at 4:59pm
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    Tribhawan Kaul
    Thank you Mridula for your insightful comment. Yes, death is a great leveller . :)
    June 22 at 5:01pm
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    Mridula Menon
    Dear Tribhawan Sir, honoured to write on your poem...a rare privilege.Thank you very much.
    June 22 at 5:03pm
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