In the previous 'bites', I had provided a simple and running translation of the said Gujarati poem.
Shav-vahini Ganga by Parul Khakhar (originally in Gujarati).
The following is a transliteration of a Hindi translation of the Gujarati poem
***
The one below (by an unknown author to us) is a different version in English and provides a broader and yet subtle/deeper description of the situation.
***
So the corpses rise,
And in unison they cry,
All is well in your realm, O, Emperor,
All is well in your realm of Ram.
To cremate our dead,
We’ve no spaces now left,
Nor left is any timber.
Our shoulders now weary,
Our eyes run dry.
And all around us do phantoms dance,
Their macabre dance of death.
These pyres incessantly aglow,
Oh, seek they do a moment’s rest.
The echo of bangles smashed,
The bleating of broken hearts in our homes.
And you watch, bravo Billa-Ranga!
You watch the flames and you fiddle.
The Ganga in your realm of Ram,
O, Emperor,
‘tis the carrier of corpses, the Ganga.
Your divine aspect, your appurtenance burnished,
How luminous your presence, and oh, how brilliant.
The truth, if only people knew,
The truth that you are stone.
Should courage come to you, or conviction,
Come forth and say it loud:
“O, Emperor, you are naked,
My Emperor, you are naked.”
You, my Emperor,
In whose realm of Ram,
The Ganga has thus become,
The Carrier of Corpses.
*****
