Selective Amnesia There was a point to this. But I forgot.

Of eyes and looks: Translating Bharathiyar’s Suttum Vizhi Sudar

Let’s begin with one of the best translations I’ve seen so far.

Agnibharathi

Is that sparkle of the eyes the dual light?
Is that black sphere the dark night?
Your indigo saree with diamonds sown
Are they the stars that night has shown?
The halo from the wild flower
Is that thy smile my lover?
The waves that the sea does hold
Are they thy bosom’s sweet fold?

The cuckoo’s sound of soulful note
In thy voice sweet does it float?
A maiden like a budding grove
Kannamma I have fallen in thy love.

Of rules do thee to me speak
Do rules stand for passion’s peak?
Later I shall do the laws elders seek.
How shall I wait? Here, a kiss on thy cheek.

Sharanya takes it, and does wonders. I like the way Kannamma has been interpreted.

PRECIOUS AS THE EYE
(a transcreation of the Tamil poem Suttum Vizhichudadar by Subramanya Bharathi)

Those eyes of yours, Kannamma, blaze
more brilliant than the sun or moon.
They smoulder with the darkness of the skies.


Your saree a silken midnight shimmering with stars
Your smile the radiance of a forest aflame
The tides of your heart like those of the ocean
Your voice the song of the sweetest koel


Woman precious as the eye, my
Love fills me with turbulence.


You speak of fortunes, my heart, but for those
enraged with passion, what need is there for fortunes?
With the elders’ consent we will marry, but let that wait –


But if I could wait – here! Allow me, a kiss upon your cheek.

I remember Chenthil translating this once, and the two of us got into a little argument over the way he’d translated nenjin alaigal. But I am unable to find his version. Chenthil, can you post it as a comment, please?

Anyway, here’s mine. Wholesale reinterpretation rather than a translation. No metre. No rhyme. Make of it as you will.

That searing glance, as pungent as the sun’s, as soothing as the moon’s, yours my precious, my iris.
Those deep eyes, pools of never ending black, the night’s sky, yours my precious, my iris.
Not stars winking on a clear night, but the diamonds on glistening silk you drape.


That radiant smile, like countless wild flowers opening up to the sun.
The curves of your breasts, the ups and the downs, as enchanting as the blue waves by the shore.
The timbre of your voice, as pleasing as the call of the wood’s sparrow.


I’m smitten my precious, my iris, my gypsy girl.


What code can hold me, moved as I am in passion.
The rituals elders demand can wait. Come here, love.
Let us have a kiss.

[Past translations: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6]