Un écrit extraordinaire en langue Bengali par le lauréat du prix Nobel, Rabindra
Nath Tagore – Rendez-vous en deux occasions mais pour les
deux raisons différentes ! Alors la
danseuse séduisante est charmée par le corps ravissant du moine ; à l’ironie
de destin, la situation est complètement inversée lorsque le moine rencontre la
danseuse malade et lui offre à soigner. Le moine a vraiment atteint le Nirvana avec
son dévouement total pour les infortunés.
The Tryst
– A translation of Tagore’s poem,
‘Abhisar’ by Manas Kumar Basu
A monk named Upagupta
fell asleep by the roadside
in the walled City of Mathura –
City lights went out by the winds,
While citizens preferred to stay
inside,
Night sky is fully enveloped by
dark monsoon clouds.
All on a sudden jingle sound of
someone’s anklet was heard near!
The monk was awaken abruptly,
Dreamy thoughts were gone suddenly,
His merciful eyes were lightened by
A bright lamp
City dancer Basabdatta effusively
seductive on way to her paramour.
Richly clad with the ornaments,
reverberated with melodious sound -
She stopped to apologize to the
monk as
her feet fell on him.
She looked at the fair-complexioned
young monk with a lamp at her hand –
He was a gentle ever-smiling young,
With his merciful but beamy eyes,
Whose clean face assures
An all-pervading forgiveness.
With ashamed eyes, she uttered
with melodious voice,
“Forgive me please young monk,
Please come along with my home,
You should not lie on this rough place
as it hurt your physique”.
The monk replied with a saddened voice,
“Oh belle, it is not the time to go
with you,
better you go there where you plan
to visit with your rich decoration,
When the right time will come
I’ll go to your home on my own.”
All on a sudden storm with lightening
struck the entire field.
The lady shivered as fear grips
As the thunder roared ominously,
As if to decry at the dark irony
of the
uncertainties in human life.
------------
Monsoon is not yet over,
comes one Chaitra evening.
Here the wind is eagerly excited,
Buds are blooming in every tree,
And fragrant flowers are showing
Their spirits everywhere.
Intoxicating sound of flutes is heard afar
as
the wind slowly passes by.
City is empty, citizens are gathered
in
the forest to observe spring festival –
While full moon exposes its beauty
as it silently
observes the emptied city.
The monk was walking alone on a
deserted street on a moonlight night.
Cuckoo from the upper trees were
singing time and again,
is that his night of tryst has finally
arrived after such a long time?
The monk crossed the city,
And went outside the city wall.
Stopped near a moat finally –
As he saw a woman lying on
the roadside under a mango
shade
Who was that lady lying near his
feet!
That has disfigured her completely-
Her whole figure became charcoal black
Citizens threw her outside the moat
To save themselves from her
deadly infectious disease.
The monk sat down and placed her
head resting
her upon his lap -
And poured
water in her dried mouth,
Wiped her head with his prayer,
Embalmed her body with the
petals of
flowers like confetti.
Buds were falling as cuckoos were singing;
the night was bathing with moonlit.
Who
are you, my Lord?’ cried the woman,
the
monk replied, Once you invited me
to your home, here comes now
Basabdutta, to
you I have come!’
