A poem translated

A good friend of mine, who researches sports culture, had been asking me, for the past few weeks, to translate a rather famous Bengali song for him. He intends to use the translated version in one of his forthcoming papers. This is one friend who has known me since I was a lanky middle school student in the very late eighties and very early nineties, barring a gap of about eight years in between. Therefore, he is fully aware of my procrastinating nature and patiently persisted with me. The idea of translating this small lyric into English remained in my mind, as all ideas I work with do, waiting for the right moment to push other ideas to the background and shove itself forward, so as to get itself an appropriate expression at an appropriate moment. It so turned out that this morning I suddenly felt an urge to complete this pending task. I am satisfied with the end product to the extent I should be. Students of translation would know that it is not an easy job. I am not given to self trumpeting as a matter of course but do like to share my work those whose opinion I value. Since I know for sure that very few actually read this blog and I personally know most of them, I do not mind submitting this little piece to their judgement. Do please read the Bengali original first and then my translation that will follow. The song is far too well known to the Bengalis for me to introduce it to them again. The non-Bengalis, on the other hand, should first read the translation without any introduction. If the translation is good, they will certainly sense the cultural capital invested into this particular song and will themselves find out more about it. Read on.

Bangalir Football

Gnutognuti Rugby noi, Taas Bidi Kheye Somoy Katano noi,

E Khelai nei gynarakol,

Sob Khelar Sera Bangalir Tumi Football!

Aha Ki Modhu ache oi tomar namete bawa Football!

Aha Ki Modhu ache oi tomar namete aha Football!

Tomake lathai roj boot pora koto pa,

Eto lathi khao tobu mukhe kichu bolo na,

Pude maro roddure, kaadaa maakho boroshai,

Tobu phule phnepe thaako awbichawl,

Sob khelar sera Bangalir tumi Football,

Jibone Marane paye paye achho football.

Adhaisho Bochhorer jamidari Ghuche giye

desh chhere paliyeche ingrej,

nokh daant bhanga ek briddho singho se je,

nei tar jari juri nei tej,

tobu maante to badha nei, sei to sekhalo ei football,

tari daulate naam amar hoeyeche Mohun Bagan East Bengal.

Aha ki modhu ache oi tomar namete bawa football!

Aha ki Modhu ache oi tomar namete aha Football!

Sob khelar sera Bangalir tumi Football.

Jaar goal e jao tumi tar buke pore baaj,

Jaar hoye goal koro se je hoi moharaaj,

Rock-e rock-e jhawgra, ghore ghore divorce,

Ilishe ghoti-te Rosatol,

Sob khelar sera Bangalir tumi Football.

The Bengali’s Football

Not brawling as in Rugby,

nor wasting time as in cards or smoking,

There’s no baseness involved in this noble sport,

in this real thing.

Oh the lord of all sports, you the Bengali’s Football,

How your very name spreads sweetness to one and all!

So many booted legs kick you around,

so hard, everyday,

Such heavy pain you suffer, duty bound,

Without having a say.

Comes heat in summer, and slush in the rains,

Yet you remain the same, rolly polly, oh dear Football!

At the legs of life and death, you stand, the Bengali’s Football.

Two hundred and fifty years’ zamindari over, the English,

Left this land for good, an old lion, its roar and tricks all gone,

No harm admitting today that they taught us football, taught this

Mighty sport that made immortal East Bengal and Mohun Bagan.

Calamity strikes the one who happens to concede a goal,

And the one who scores runs the world as a whole!!

Passion runs wild as the Bengali sits down to talk about you,

Husbands divorce wife, fight in your name like children do.

Ghotis and Bangals bring the earth down, emotion their wherewithall,

Your, dear, the lord of all sports, you the Bengali’s football.

Thank you, dear reader, for your attention and patience. You may not know but this is my first successful attempt at translation. My lack of focus always comes in the way of persisting with things. But these days I realize that things have to be done, and it does not matter when you begin. For instance, I started participating in debates only last week and had great fun doing it. I will post that speech the next time. The secret of doing things, I now realize, is in having fun, in enjoying them, without bothering about consequences. You would be surprised to know that this approach often results in excellence as well.