Poetry

Gems of Punjabi Poetry

AMBI DE BUTTE THALE
by Mohan Singh

UNDER THE MANGO TREE

A mango tree
Grew in our home;
Sitting under it,
Life was paradise.
How to describe
This jewel of our home?
But without my lover
With him far away,
It gnaws at me,
O it tastes so sour!

Under the mango tree
I sit with my spinning wheel;
To cheer myself,
I spin out a few strings.
But the love songs of the koel bird
Pierce me like shots from a gun;
I cast aside my spinning wheel,
I tear apart my cushion.
Afraid of my mother-in-law
I try a bit of embroidery
Lost in memories I begin to
Gather my sundered heart;
The embroidery needle
Perforates my finger.

Soon I get up
And sit on the floor,
With hand on my chin,
I flow down the waters of memory
O those delightful events
Moments of union
Crepes and rice-puddings
Lovely monsoon showers
The handsome one's pleas
And my obstinacy
As they flash on my mind,
They ravage my being.

What was that day?
It was auspicious,
It was fortunate,
The day was blessed,
For my lover was at home.
O I was all bathed,
I had my hair long,
I had kohl in my eyes,
I put on jewels,
I scrubbed and scrubbed so
My diamonds sparkled.
I decorated my forehead,
Trying out many a fashion.
When I was done,
Fully adorning myself,
Under the mango tree
I started to spin, soft cotton in hand.

The moon-like lover too
Came and sat under
The shade of the mango tree.
He was a handsome vendor:
Carrying melodies of my love.
Stories of battles fought in
Some far away land
The buzz of engines,
The bellowing waves,
The enemy bombarding
My lover with his interludes!
He went on narrating,
I urged him on.

While he told his stories
The rustle of leaves,
The rumbling clouds,
The chimes from bangles,
The drone of the spinning wheel,
The rhythmic lullaby,
The koel bird's sweet call
Lured him to bed
And lulled him to sleep.

Seeing him sound asleep,
I took some black grease
From my spinning wheel,
And put it on the forehead
Of my sleeping spouse.
O how I laughed
And clapped loudly!
I was ecstatic,
Doubling and quadrupling in joy!
He woke up:
Taken aback.
Scared, he stared,
Merrily, I laughed;
Again and again he'd ask,
But I would not tell.

He frowned when he saw his face
In the mirror of my spinning wheel;
I made a quick dash
He chased me.
I would not let him catch me:
He was proud of his youth,
I had my woman's strong will;
I was ahead of him;
He, behind me.

Around the bed,
Around the mango tree,
We were running,
We were laughing too.
His sheet was rustling
My heart was quickening;
His noisy shoe
My jingling anklet;
His turban came undone
My dupatta slipped down;
And when exhausted
We both sat silent.

What was that day?
It was auspicious.
It was fortunate.
The day was blessed
For my lover was at home.
Today the breeze devours me,
Today its shade scorches me.
I must call in the gardener
To chop off the mango tree.
O but I forgot,
How awful it would be:
If I cut off the mango tree
What will I climb to see
My lover coming home to me?

A mango tree
Grew in our home;
Sitting under it,
Life was paradise.
How to describe
This jewel of our home?
But without my lover
With him far away,
It gnaws at me,
O it tastes so sour!

(translated by Nikky-Guninder Kaur Singh)

AJJ AKHAN WARIS SHAH NUN
by Amrita Pritam

TODAY I ASK WARIS SHAH

Today I ask Waris Shah to speak from his grave!
And turn to the next page of his book of love.
You saw one Punjabi daughter weep, you wrote page after page,
Today countless daughters weep, they cry out to you Waris Shah:
Rise! O sympathizer of the afflicted! Rise! Look at your Punjab!
The land is sheeted with corpses, the Chenab is full of blood.
Somebody has poured poison into its five rivers
And their waters are irrigating our farms and fields.
Each pore of this lush land is bursting with venom:
Redness flares up inch by inch, wrath flies high.
The poisonous breeze wafts across forests
Turning each bamboo flute into a snake.
The snakes cast a spell, and bit again and again,
The limbs of the Punjab suddenly became blue.
Songs are broken into silence, weaving strings have snapped;
Friends are torn asunder, their spinning-wheels lie hushed.
Aloft with nuptial beds the rafts are floating away
Branches along with swings are breaking apart.
Lost is the flute that once played on the breath of love,
All of Ranjah's brothers have forgotten its art.
The blood spilt on the ground is seeping into the graves,
The princesses of love are weeping in their sacred spots.
Today everyone has become a villain, a thief of beauty and love,
From where can we bring today another Waris Shah?
Today I ask Waris Shah to speak from his grave!
And turn to the next page of his book of love!

(translated by Nikky-Guninder Kaur Singh)

AJJ
by Amrita Pritam

TODAY

Your feet are pure, my lips are impure;
Today they will touch each other:
Either your feet will be polluted,
Or my lips will become pure. Today

Today something will happen
There is a truth that breeds in a bundle of vice;
The koel bird may have grown up in a nest of crows,
But she has not yet lost the primal language of love.

The purity of your feet, the pollution of my lips,
Today they will cross over each other;
No, no - this cannot happen:
The touchstone remains; iron turns into gold.

Hands of light will wash away the darkness of the storm;
Your pure feet, my impure lips, today will touch.

Today something will happen
Your pure feet, my impure lips
Today will touch;
Your feet are pure, my lips will be
So too today

(translated by Nikky-Guninder Kaur Singh)

DIDAR
By Bhai Vir Singh

VISION

O Sustainer of this scene,
Do not cast us aside!
Deep inside you somewhere,
Lie our music and melodies.
Suspended in your interstices,
What joy it is!
You gave us the gift of eyes
Never let us out of your sight.

(translated by Nikky-Guninder Kaur Singh)




AJJ
By Bhai Vir Singh

TODAY

'Yesterday' is gone
Far out of our control;
'Tomorrow' is still away,
Not yet in hand.
'Today' is with us,
Filled with worries though.
Caught up in yesterday and tomorrow,
We let today go for naught.

So hold on to 'today' tightly
Like ambrosial elixir, sip it slowly;
Absorb it, get high on it
Immerse yourself in Divine radiance and praise.

(translated by Nikky-Guninder Kaur Singh)

read other articles in Poetry