jueves, 6 de octubre de 2016

ALOK SARKAR [19.209]


Poeta bengalí famoso de la generación-50 (Nació en 1933). 
Alok Sarkar, considerado como "el poeta de lo sagrado" en la generación de los años cincuenta.

La advertencia de cada momento

No es buena la inquietud. Pero permite
cambiar del negro al blanco.
A veces siento su atracción, pienso entonces en coger
este poder sin conciencia. De repente, sé que podría hacer volar
el árbol del ficus como un pájaro. Sin embargo,
dudo de la inquietud en lo cotidiano. Por eso siempre salgo
con la ropa elegante que uso normalmente, nunca con la otra.

Me canso cuando veo al ficus como una sintaxis de hojas
picadas por los insectos y eso que miro este árbol
muy pocas veces. Una tarde vi dos barcas al abrir la ventana
y tres pájaros desvelados sobre las ramas del roble de India. 
Estas imágenes se van quedando en la memoria.
Pero nunca es buena la claridad. La inquietud es una emoción aún más abrupta de la que nace la enfermedad de la retórica y de la incoherencia.

A lo largo del día pienso en las dos barcas infinitas y los tres
pájaros sobre las ramas del roble de India.
Creo que estas imágenes descansan profundamente detrás del ficus.
Sigo despierto, siempre con los ojos solitarios, vestido con la ropa elegante.
Es necesaria la conciencia viva, la advertencia de cada momento.
Pienso en el patio sucio, en el grito del aire, dónde está la llave,
la conciencia aguda queda despierta, sola, es vasta la luz total.

Alok Sarkar, incluido en La pared de agua. Antología de poesía bengalí contemporánea  (Olifante Ediciones de poesía, Zaragoza, 2011, ed. y trad. de Subhro Bandopadhyay   y Susana Agustín para este poema, adaptación de Violeta Medina).

Selected Poems of Alok Sarkar

Deathvictor [মৃত্যুঞ্জয়] 

Its absense becomes the visual
becomes action and reaction.
Retiring summer afternoon
reluctantly trickles from one history 
to another. This sluggishness
this change of state and transformation
will be brought to the table. The completion
of what's completed will be up for talk.
All of existence is death-rigged.
Completion remains untouched by it. Midday of June
proves the scorched landscape. A scorched landspace
swallows emptiness - now emptiness has been tagged, ensured.
A suntanned reaction
makes its action verb

Translated from Bengali by Aryanil Mukherjee.

Identification [শনাক্তিকরণ] 

Of all the seeings
few are favored.
The ones disliked are
being pronounced more often.
The disliked seeings are up all day.
The more they stay up
the more enthusiasm - 
this moment I cross the street
the next I animate my speech.
Upon returning home, the first thing
I drew was a dislike.
I draw a dislike
and then another.
See how sharply night descends!
Spreading out my arms and limbs
under the big top, I realize
I am within wider quarters.
As sleep drizzles
I can see it hasn't brought
any colors with it today - no black
no white.

Translated from Bengali by Aryanil Mukherjee.

Void [শূন্যতা] 

There was a tree by the riverside, it has been long
since the tree isn’t there any more. Before falling asleep
I think of the tree – one of the branches bent over, prodding the water-surface.
This summer Krishnachura has been in full bloom and Jarul ecstatic
All my day within the hues of Krishnachura, all my day within
the ecstasy of Jarul
Whatever fills up the day is sharp pronouncement... spiky summer days.
The rest are all autumn alone along a Sheuli-strewn soggy forest road.
Sheuli-strewn lone and cool mesmerisms. Before each slumber 
I think of the tree – one of the branches prodding the water-surface.
A transparent cloudless emptiness spreads over like mist. This summer
Krishnachura has been in full bloom and Jarul ecstatic
I plant...carefully...just in between the two...a transparent and cloudless emptiness
There was a tree by the riverside it isn’t there any more. 
Krishnachura - A large tropical tree producing bright red and fire-coloured flowers in bunches.
Jarul- Also a tropical plant shorter in height producing enchanting purple flowers.
Sheuli- A typical plant available in Bengal, its little white flowers with saffron stalk heralding the advent of autumn.

Translated from Bengali by Subhashis Gangopadhyay.

Obeisance [প্রণাম]

A dark thin man. As expected
a blue bag dangling from his back.
He is returning home now – just like the descending evening
that is, he’s returning home just like the descending evening.

As a matter of fact there's truly nothing to worry about. Watch him 
approaching soft- toed
feet never making a sound too loud.
There appears to be no need to shift eyes away from him
nor casting a watchful glance at him - a dark thin man, no more.

It’s only that the afternoon is gradually stretching itself,
the whole of it trying to overshadow everything around.
It seems to be a coming on that can barely get noticed,
one that can never be referred to as an invasion – all these – 
all these of a mere afternoon.

Just as a dark thin man, on his back –
a blue bag on his back –
these can never be things to worry about.

How easily it can be comprehended now that
the time for final obeisance has arrived at last –
the all-pervading sunset has brought into a zilch
that eternal non-corroboration.

Translated from Bengali by Subhashis Gangopadhyay.


Every soul was deep asleep when the first rooster called 
from the otherside of the wall. I climbed down to the courtyard.
only to find the half-closed petals of Krishnakali

I felt nocturnal dew under my feet as I stood beneath the mango tree
A more careful observation indicated they were all asleep
just to comprehend that alone in a sleeping world 
the rooster's call
had beckoned the petals
to slowly rise from dissipating slumber. 

When in a sudden gush diamond-mind leapt out from behind the leaves
and crossed over the wall in unspoken darkness
I realized once again, they were all asleep, truly asleep.

Under a mango tree, awake to it's desolation
awake more than the awakening, I moved towards the well
to rinse my face, my eyes.

A lily sprouted breaking dark, the Cape Jasmine too
As light began to play boisterous with the Mango leaves
They were all asleep in their rooms
I too, returned to crawl back into my bed under the mosquito net
and turned to the other side to doze off again.

All my day revolves around a bunch of errands, awake all the while
within the overwhelming frame of non-awakening.

You give me a fresh flower
You bring me inside this house of commotion
I place the Cape Jasmine in a corner table
in the house of commotion, where I ask around
the name of this street.

Krishnakali - (Mirabilis jalapa) plant, occurs in a variety of colors; was probably brought to India by the Portugese in 16th century C.E
Translated from Bengali by Aryanil Mukherjee.

The Red Light [লালবাতি] 

Suddenly one day I discovered 
there was no friend around.

At once 
the red light began to glow.
Nothing emerges clear under red light
but red light is conspicuous from a long distance.

I do not have the mind now to clearly observe anything 
when there's no friend around.
Am I visible to them
from a long distance?

What can they see!
Nothing is visible in the red.
A hazy silhouette
an uncertain existence.

I never knew when my friends had left
one by one.
All of a sudden I felt a shudder
there was no existence of any friend by my side!

Red light subsists.
Red light is visible from far away.

The red light is there
and this dreadfully still existence.

Translated from Bengali by Subhashis Gangopadhyay.

God [ঈশ্বর]

The child who had 
killed his mother
is today guiding the blind man

He is finished with his games, the cover of dusk is gathering all around.
How far precisely is the blind man’s home!
Cars are hurtling past; all men are in a hurry.
He is not in a brooding state but merely casting a cursory glance around.

He kicked the kitten, just kicked it from the causeway onto the road.
He possesses a pair of strong feet indeed!
The child who had killed his mother
all of a sudden stopped, confronted by the sweet smell of night jasmine.

How far precisely is the blind man’s home!
God in white robe! 
On the way back from the blind man’s home
a sly hand swiftly picked up a fistful of peanuts from the old vendor’s basket.

Translated from Bengali by Subhashis Gangopadhyay.


How complete a picture!
The picture is enjoying itself
within itself.

Its earth, the colour of its trees and
the wind and the light that surround them
they, too.

I am beckoning you
I am beckoning you all.
Scurry in your festive dresses.

There’s no dent anywhere,
the color of the tree, the stirred up earth
and that picture

it is not thinking of anything additional
of anything lost.
Listen to the sound around –

the sound that generates
in the absence of any sound.
Can’t you hear it … loud and clear? 

Translated from Bengali by Subhashis Gangopadhyay.

Flowers in red thread [লালসুতোয় বোনা ফুল]

Our breakfast – from ages long past 
All I remember of it
are flowers embroidered on the table cover
Do you recount other details ?
the menu ? realistic conversations ?
Ravaging memory has displaced objects from their real space
and it scares me.
I repeatedly think of the red-threaded flowers on the table cover
Red-threaded flowers with black designs mixed in.
Me, the realist
I think of those red flowers knit on the table cover
speckled with black thread 
and dread to think how much of our conversation
you still bear in mind. 
I felt afraid even to look into your eyes.
Just thought of those flowers in red thread
Constructed, alive red flowers and the
methodology of construction -
certain specific methods, each one uniquely expressed
without the ravage of memory
without the enigma of imagination
Do you remember other details ? Self-obsessed you.
My eyes don’t ever meet yours.

Translated from Bengali by Aryanil Mukherjee.


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