Posts Tagged ‘sanskrit translation’
ऋष्यशृंग
The story of the ascetic Ṛṣyaśṛṅga (ऋष्य-शृंग, “deer-horned”) occurs in the Puranic literature. His father brought him up in an atmosphere of innocence, and he had never seen a woman. (Later, in the Rāmāyaṇa, he officiates at Daśaratha’s sacrifice for children, and it is thus through his grace that Rāma is born.) Pollock:
The Ṛśyaśṛṅga episode appears also [i.e, besides the Ramayana] at MBh 3.110-13, PadmP, Bengali recension, Pātālakhaṇḍa, 13 (reprinted in Lüders 1897), Bhāratamañjarī 3.758-95, Bhadrakalpāvadāna 33, Avadānakalpalatā 65, Alambusā and Naḷanikā Jātakas, etc. The episode is clearly of great importance to traditional India…
Here is the story from the Vana Parva in the Mahabharata (taken from GRETIL), accompanied by a pleasant translation in simple rhyming verse, by Arthur W. Ryder. (Scroll horizontally to read the English text and/or compare. Or to read just the English text, click here.)
lomaśa uvāca
eṣā devanadī puṇyā kauśikī bharatarṣabha
viśvāmitrāśramo ramya eṣa cātra prakāśate
āśramaś caiva puṇyākhyaḥ kāśyapasya mahātmanaḥ
ṛśyaśṛṅgaḥ suto yasya tapasvī saṃyatendriyaḥ
tapaso yaḥ prabhāvena varṣayām āsa vāsavam
anāvṛṣṭyāṃ bhayād yasya vavarṣa balavṛtrahā
mṛgyāṃ jātaḥ sa tejasvī kāśyapasya sutaḥ prabhuḥ
viṣaye lomapādasya yaś cakārādbhutaṃ mahat
nivartiteṣu sasyeṣu yasmai śāntāṃ dadau nṛpaḥ
lomapādo duhitaraṃ sāvitrīṃ savitā yathā
yudhiṣṭhira uvāca
ṛśyaśṛṅgaḥ kathaṃ mṛgyām utpannaḥ kāśyapātmajaḥ
viruddhe yonisaṃsarge kathaṃ ca tapasā yutaḥ
kimarthaṃ ca bhayāc chakras tasya bālasya dhīmataḥ
anāvṛṣṭyāṃ pravṛttāyāṃ vavarṣa balavṛtrahā
kathaṃrūpā ca śāntābhūd rājaputrī yatavratā
lobhayām āsa yā ceto mṛgabhūtasya tasya vai
lomapādaś ca rājarṣir yadāśrūyata dhārmikaḥ
kathaṃ vai viṣaye tasya nāvarṣat pākaśāsanaḥ
etan me bhagavan sarvaṃ vistareṇa yathātatham
vaktum arhasi śuśrūṣor ṛṣyaśṛṅgasya ceṣṭitam
lomaśa uvāca
vibhāṇḍakasya brahmarṣes tapasā bhāvitātmanaḥ
amoghavīryasya sataḥ prajāpatisamadyuteḥ
śṛṇu putro yathā jāta ṛśyaśṛṅgaḥ pratāpavān
mahāhrade mahātejā bālaḥ sthavirasaṃmataḥ
mahāhradaṃ samāsādya kāśyapas tapasi sthitaḥ
dīrghakālaṃ pariśrānta ṛṣir devarṣisaṃmataḥ
tasya retaḥ pracaskanda dṛṣṭvāpsarasam urvaśīm
apsūpaspṛśato rājan mṛgī tac cāpibat tadā SIMPLE DEER-HORN
saha toyena tṛṣitā sā garbhiṇy abhavan nṛpa
0543_01 sā puroktā bhagavatā brahmaṇā lokakartṛṇā I
0543_02 devakanyā mṛgī bhūtvā muniṃ sūya vimokṣyase Young Deer-horn was a pious youth
amoghatvād vidheś caiva bhāvitvād daivanirmitāt Devoted to religious truth,
tasyāṃ mṛgyāṃ samabhavat tasya putro mahān ṛṣiḥ A hermit innocently good
ṛśyaśṛṅgas taponityo vana eva vyavardhata Who grew to manhood in the wood.
tasyarśyaśṛṅgaṃ śirasi rājann āsīn mahātmanaḥ
tenarśyaśṛṅga ity evaṃ tadā sa prathito 'bhavat
His mother left him at his birth;
na tena dṛṣṭapūrvo 'nyaḥ pitur anyatra mānuṣaḥ He only knew one soul on earth,
tasmāt tasya mano nityaṃ brahmacarye 'bhavan nṛpa His austere father; therefore he
Grew up in natural piety.
etasminn eva kāle tu sakhā daśarathasya vai Now in a kingdom near at hand
lomapāda iti khyāto aṅgānām īśvaro 'bhavat No rain had fallen on the land,
0544_01 premoṣitāpacāreṇa tasya rājño yudhiṣṭhira Prevented by the magic skill
tena kāmaḥ kṛto mithyā brāhmaṇebhya iti śrutiḥ Of priests the king had treated ill.
0545_01 daivopahatasattvena dharmajñenāpi bhārata
sa brāhmaṇaiḥ parityaktas tadā vai jagatīpatiḥ
purohitāpacārāc ca tasya rājño yadṛcchayā
na vavarṣa sahasrākṣas tato 'pīḍyanta vai prajāḥ
sa brāhmaṇān paryapṛcchat tapoyuktān manīṣiṇaḥ An aged priest advised the king:
pravarṣaṇe surendrasya samarthān pṛthivīpatiḥ “Propitiate the clergy; bring
kathaṃ pravarṣet parjanya upāyaḥ paridṛśyatām Pure-minded Deer-horn from the wood,
tam ūcuś coditās tena svamatāni manīṣiṇaḥ That hermit innocently good.
tatra tv eko munivaras taṃ rājānam uvāca ha
kupitās tava rājendra brāhmaṇā niskṛtiṃ cara “He dwells in purity afar;
ṛśyaśṛṅgaṃ munisutam ānayasva ca pārthiva He does not know what women are:
vāneyam anabhijñaṃ ca nārīṇām ārjave ratam Fetch him, and then the rain will fall;
sa ced avatared rājan viṣayaṃ te mahātapāḥ Of this I have no doubt at all.”
sadyaḥ pravarṣet parjanya iti me nātra saṃśayaḥ
etac chrutvā vaco rājan kṛtvā niskṛtim ātmanaḥ The counsel pleased the king; he planned
sa gatvā punar āgacchat prasanneṣu dvijātiṣu To entertain the hermit, and
rājānam āgataṃ dṛṣṭvā pratisaṃjagṛhuḥ prajāḥ Invited women of the town
0546_01 sa ca tāḥ pratijagrāha piteva hitakṛt sadā To go and bring young Deer-horn down.
tato 'ṅgapatir āhūya sacivān mantrakovidān
ṛśyaśṛṅgāgame yatnam akaron mantraniścaye
so 'dhyagacchad upāyaṃ tu tair amātyaiḥ sahācyutaḥ
śāstrajñair alam arthajñair nītyāṃ ca pariniṣṭhitaiḥ
tata ānāyayām āsa vāramukhyā mahīpatiḥ
veśyāḥ sarvatra niṣṇātās tā uvāca sa pārthivaḥ
ṛśyaśṛṅgam ṛṣeḥ putram ānayadhvam upāyataḥ
lobhayitvābhiviśvāsya viṣayaṃ mama śobhanāḥ
0547_01 niyojayām āsa ca tās tasya bālasya lobhane
tā rājabhayabhītāś ca śāpabhītāś ca yoṣitaḥ But they refused the royal plan,
aśakyam ūcus tat kāryaṃ vivarṇā gatacetasaḥ Fearing to meet a holy man;
tatra tv ekā jaradyoṣā rājānam idam abravīt At last an aged crone’s ambition
prayatiṣye mahārāja tam ānetuṃ tapodhanam Drove her to undertake the mission.
abhipretāṃs tu me kāmān samanujñātum arhasi “If you will give me what I ask;’
tataḥ śakṣye lobhayitum ṛśyaśṛṅgam ṛṣeḥ sutam She said, “I can fulfill the task;
But I require a rich reward
Of gold and gems, my royal lord.”
tasyāḥ sarvam abhiprāyam anvajānāt sa pārthivaḥ With royal bounty richly laden,
dhanaṃ ca pradadau bhūri ratnāni vividhāni ca She took her child, a youthful maiden
tato rūpeṇa saṃpannā vayasā ca mahīpate More known as beautiful than good,
striya ādāya kāś cit sā jagāma vanam añjasā And so departed to the wood.
lomaśa uvāca II
sā tu nāvyāśramaṃ cakre rājakāryārthasiddhaye She waited till the coast was clear,
saṃdeśāc caiva nṛpateḥ svabuddhyā caiva bhārata And then she sent her daughter dear
nānāpuṣpaphalair vṛkṣaiḥ kṛtrimair upaśobhitam To interview the hermit who
nānāgulmalatopetaiḥ svādukāmaphalapradaiḥ Had never learned what women do.
atīva ramaṇīyaṃ tad atīva ca manoharam
cakre nāvyāśramaṃ ramyam adbhutopamadarśanam
tato nibadhya tāṃ nāvam adūre kāśyapāśramāt
cārayām āsa puruṣair vihāraṃ tasya vai muneḥ
tato duhitaraṃ veśyā samādhāyetikṛtyatām The maiden found the lad and said:
dṛṣṭvāntaraṃ kāśyapasya prāhiṇod buddhisaṃmatām “I trust your pious life is led
sā tatra gatvā kuśalā taponityasya saṃnidhau Without offense, and that your food
āśramaṃ taṃ samāsādya dadarśa tam ṛṣeḥ sutam Of roots and fruits is sweet and good.
veśyovāca
kaccin mune kuśalaṃ tāpasānāṃ; kaccic ca vo mūlaphalaṃ prabhūtam “I trust your father’s heart is blest
kaccid bhavān ramate cāśrame 'smiṃs; tvāṃ vai draṣṭuṃ sāṃpratam āgato 'smi With deep religious peace and rest;
kaccit tapo vardhate tāpasānāṃ; pitā ca te kaccid ahīnatejāḥ For I am hither come to see
kaccit tvayā prīyate caiva vipra; kaccit svādhyāyaḥ kriyate ṛśyaśṛṅga Your unpretending piety.”
ṛśyaśṛṅga uvāca And Deer-horn answered: “Sir, you are
ṛddho bhavāñ jyotir iva prakāśate; manye cāhaṃ tvām abhivādanīyam As radiant as a beaming star;
pādyaṃ vai te saṃpradāsyāmi kāmād; yathādharmaṃ phalamūlāni caiva I never saw a man like you;
Then tell me, sir, what shall I do
kauśyāṃ bṛsyām āssva yathopajoṣaṃ; kṛṣṇājinenāvṛtāyāṃ sukhāyām “To make you happy? Here are roots,
kva cāśramas tava kiṃ nāma cedaṃ; vrataṃ brahmaṃś carasi hi devavat tvam Water, a couch of skins, and fruits.
What vows are yours, most holy sage?
Where is your pious hermitage?”
veśyovāca
mamāśramaḥ kāśyapaputra ramyas; triyojanaṃ śailam imaṃ pareṇa “My hermitage,” the maid replied,
tatra svadharmo 'nabhivādanaṃ no; na codakaṃ pādyam upaspṛśāmaḥ “Is three long leagues from here, beside
0548_01 bhavatā nābhivādyo 'ham abhivādyo bhavān mayā The river; there I practice now
0548_02 vratam etādṛśaṃ brahman pariṣvajyo bhavān mayā A fearfully ascetic vow.
ṛśyaśṛṅga uvāca
phalāni pakvāni dadāni te 'haṃ; bhallātakāny āmalakāni caiva “For I have sworn that I will greet
parūṣakānīṅgudadhanvanāni; priyālānāṃ kāmakāraṃ kuruṣva Such other hermits as I meet;
0549_01 gṛhāṇa kāmād dhi mamopakārāt And I must clasp and kiss you too—
0549_02 kuruṣva kāmaṃ yad abhīpsitaṃ me So my religion bids me do.”
lomaśa uvāca She spurned the fruits that he had offered,
sā tāni sarvāṇi visarjayitvā; bhakṣān mahārhān pradadau tato 'smai And in their stead to him she proffered
tāny ṛśyaśṛṅgasya mahārasāni; bhṛśaṃ surūpāṇi ruciṃ dadur hi Confectionery sweet and good
That she had brought into the wood.
dadau ca mālyāni sugandhavanti; citrāṇi vāsāṃsi ca bhānumanti She gave him fragrant garlands too,
pānāni cāgryāṇi tato mumoda; cikrīḍa caiva prajahāsa caiva And brilliant garments, clean and new;
She offered wine; and while he quaffed,
She played and swayed and danced and laughed.
sā kandukenāramatāsya mūle; vibhajyamānā phalitā lateva She played about him with a ball,
gātraiś ca gātrāṇi niṣevamāṇā; samāśliṣac cāsakṛd ṛśyaśṛṅgam And oft coquettishly would fall
sarjān aśokāṃs tilakāṃś ca vṛkṣān; prapuṣpitān avanāmyāvabhajya Upon his bosom, until he
vilajjamāneva madābhibhūtā; pralobhayām āsa sutaṃ maharṣeḥ Took fire from her immodesty.
atharśyaśṛṅgaṃ vikṛtaṃ samīkṣya; punaḥ punaḥ pīḍya ca kāyam asya At last she saw the deed was done,
avekṣamāṇā śanakair jagāma; kṛtvāgnihotrasya tadāpadeśam That she had charmed the hermit’s son;
And, gazing o’er her shoulder, fled,
To make her sacrifice, she said.
tasyāṃ gatāyāṃ madanena matto; vicetanaś cābhavad ṛśyaśṛṅgaḥ When she had left him, peace and joy
tām eva bhāvena gatena śūnyo; viniḥśvasann ārtarūpo babhūva Departed from the luckless boy;
Sadly he sighed, by love distressed,
An aching void within his breast.
tato muhūrtād dharipiṅgalākṣaḥ; praveṣṭito romabhirā nakhāgrāt His father, while he sighed, returned,
svādhyāyavān vṛttasamādhiyukto; vibhāṇḍakaḥ kāśyapaḥ prādurāsīt Whose eyes with fire ascetic burned,
Whose life was one devoted prayer,
Whose nails were overgrown with hair.
so 'paśyad āsīnam upetya putraṃ; dhyāyantam ekaṃ viparītacittam When he beheld his son distressed
viniḥśvasantaṃ muhur ūrdhvadṛṣṭiṃ; vibhāṇḍakaḥ putram uvāca dīnam With eye upturned and heaving breast,
With longing written on his face
And passion in contentment’s place,
na kalpyante samidhaḥ kiṃ nu tāta; kaccid dhutaṃ cāgnihotraṃ tvayādya “What troubles you, my dearest son?”
sunirṇiktaṃ sruksruvaṃ homadhenuḥ; kaccit savatsā ca kṛtā tvayādya He asked, “and are your duties done?
na vai yathāpūrvam ivāsi putra; cintāparaś cāsi vicetanaś ca Who has been here with you today?”
dīno 'timātraṃ tvam ihādya kiṃ nu; pṛcchāmi tvāṃ ka ihādyāgato 'bhūt And Deer-horn answered him straightway.
III
ṛśyaśṛṅga uvāca “A hermit youth with hanging hair,
ihāgato jaṭilo brahmacārī; na vai hrasvo nātidīrgho manasvī Not short, nor very tall, but fair
suvarṇavarṇaḥ kamalāyatākṣaḥ; sutaḥ surāṇām iva śobhamānaḥ And bright as gold, with lotus-eyes,
Some child of heaven, wondrous wise.
samṛddharūpaḥ saviteva dīptaḥ; suśuklakṛṣṇākṣataraś cakoraiḥ “He came in beauty like the sun,
nīlāḥ prasannāś ca jaṭāḥ sugandhā; hiraṇyarajjugrathitāḥ sudīrghāḥ Black eyes, sweet voice, his hair undone
And hanging soft, dark, fragrant, and
Encircled by a golden band.
ādhārarūpā punar asya kaṇṭhe; vibhrājate vidyud ivāntarikṣe “A relic on his neck was seen
dvau cāsya piṇḍāv adhareṇa kaṇṭham; ajātaromau sumanoharau ca That danced like flashing lightnings keen;
Below it, two soft swellings white
That thrilled me with a strange delight.
vilagnamadhyaś ca sa nābhideśe; kaṭiś ca tasyātikṛtapramāṇā “Large hips he had, but slender waist
tathāsya cīrāntaritā prabhāti; hiraṇmayī mekhalā me yatheyam Which I could see was close embraced
By a golden belt; I saw it shine
And it was not at all like mine.
0550_01 anyac ca tasyādbhutadarśanīyā “And on his ankles something stirred
0550_02 vibhāti mālā kanakaprabhāsā That jingled like a cooing bird,
0550_03 kaṇṭhe sthitā vakṣasi ghūrṇamānā While on his wrist there tinkled free
0550_04 yathākṣamālā bhavatā nibaddhā A novel kind of rosary.
anyac ca tasyādbhutadarśanīyaṃ; vikūjitaṃ pādayoḥ saṃprabhāti “And as he moved, the beads would sing
pāṇyoś ca tadvat svanavan nibaddhau; kalāpakāv akṣamālā yatheyam Like gay flamingoes in the spring;
His pious robe was wondrous fair,
And quite unlike the garb we wear.
viceṣṭamānasya ca tasya tāni; kūjanti haṃsā sarasīva mattāḥ “His face was beautiful to see;
cīrāṇi tasyādbhutadarśanāni; nemāni tadvan mama rūpavanti His speech was kind and gladdened me;
vaktraṃ ca tasyādbhutadarśanīyaṃ; pravyāhṛtaṃ hlādayatīva cetaḥ His voice was like the nightingale;
puṃskokilasyeva ca tasya vāṇī; tāṃ śṛṇvato me vyathito 'ntarātmā It made me sigh and yearn and pale.
yathā vanaṃ mādhavamāsi madhye; samīritaṃ śvasanenābhivāti “And as in spring the forest trees
tathā sa vāty uttamapuṇyagandhī; niṣevyamāṇaḥ pavanena tāta Wave beautifully in the breeze,
So, father, when the wind blew, he
Shed fragrance like a flowering tree.
susaṃyatāś cāpi jaṭā vibhaktā; dvaidhīkṛtā bhānti samā lalāṭe “His hermit locks— I wondered how
karṇau ca citrair iva cakravālaiḥ; samāvṛtau tasya surūpavadbhiḥ They parted on his noble brow;
And dangling from each ear, there stirred
And danced what seemed a brilliant bird.
tathā phalaṃ vṛttam atho vicitraṃ; samāhanat pāṇinā dakṣiṇena “A round, elastic fruit he had
tad bhūmim āsādya punaḥ punaś ca; samutpataty adbhutarūpam uccaiḥ That bounded from the earth like mad
When he would strike it merrily—
'Twas very wonderful to see.
tac cāpi hatvā parivartate 'sau; vāterito vṛkṣa ivāvaghūrṇaḥ “He moved and swayed with graceful ease—
taṃ prekṣya me putram ivāmarāṇāṃ; prītiḥ parā tāta ratiś ca jātā I thought of wind among the trees:
A wonderful delight and joy
Came when I saw the godlike boy.
sa me samāśliṣya punaḥ śarīraṃ; jaṭāsu gṛhyābhyavanāmya vaktram “He held me in a tight embrace;
vaktreṇa vaktraṃ praṇidhāya śabdaṃ; cakāra tan me 'janayat praharṣam I felt his hair; he pressed his face
Against my face and made a noise
That waked in me the strangest joys.
na cāpi pādyaṃ bahu manyate 'sau; phalāni cemāni mayāhṛtāni “Our simple fruits he did not think
evaṃvrato 'smīti ca mām avocat; phalāni cānyāni navāny adān me Were good, or water that we drink;
He gave me other fruits and rare,
And said: ‘This is my humble fare.’
mayopayuktāni phalāni tāni; nemāni tulyāni rasena teṣām “They were not like the fruits we eat,
na cāpi teṣāṃ tvag iyaṃ yathaiṣāṃ; sārāṇi naiṣām iva santi teṣām But tasted wonderfully sweet;
They had a different sort of skin,
And different was the pulp within.
toyāni caivātirasāni mahyaṃ; prādāt sa vai pātum udārarūpaḥ “A strange, sweet kind of water he
pītvaiva yāny abhyadhikaḥ praharṣo; mamābhavad bhūś caliteva cāsīt Offered with noble piety;
It filled me with an odd delight,
And earth grew wobbly to my sight.
imāni citrāṇi ca gandhavanti; mālyāni tasyodgrathitāni paṭṭaiḥ “Sweet garlands with a careless mirth
yāni prakīryeha gataḥ svam eva; sa āśramaṃ tapasā dyotamānaḥ He wove, and scattered on the earth;
Then, glorious as an ancient sage,
Departed to his hermitage.
gatena tenāsmi kṛto vicetā; gātraṃ ca me saṃparitapyatīva “And since he went, I feel distressed;
icchāmi tasyāntikam āśu gantuṃ; taṃ ceha nityaṃ parivartamānam My limbs are burning and my breast;
I long to go to him today
Or have him here with me alway.
gacchāmi tasyāntikam eva tāta; kā nāma sā vratacaryā ca tasya “Yes, I will tread the path he trod
icchāmy ahaṃ carituṃ tena sārdhaṃ; yathā tapaḥ sa caraty ugrakarmā And learn the way he worships God;
With him I long to make a trial
Of holy life and self-denial.
0551_01 cartuṃ tathecchā hṛdaye mamāsti “I find no peace from him apart;
0551_02 dunoti cittaṃ yadi taṃ na paśye Religious yearnings fill my heart.”
IV
vibhāṇḍaka uvāca “It was a devil, dear my son;
rakṣāṃsi caitāni caranti putra; rūpeṇa tenādbhutadarśanena By foes like these we are undone;
atulyarūpāṇy atighoravanti; vighnaṃ sadā tapasaś cintayanti They walk the earth in conquering charm
And work religious men much harm.
surūparūpāṇi ca tāni tāta; pralobhayante vividhair upāyaiḥ “They win us with their cunning wiles,
sukhāc ca lokāc ca nipātayanti; tāny ugrakarmāṇi munīn vaneṣu Their wondrous beauty and their smiles,
Then show themselves as demons fell
And plunge us in the pit of hell.
na tāni seveta munir yatātmā; satāṃ lokān prārthayānaḥ kathaṃ cit “The man who seeks religious peace
kṛtvā vighnaṃ tāpasānāṃ ramante; pāpācārās tapasas tāny apāpa Should keep himself from such as these;
To ruin us is their delight,
My pious boy. Forget the sight.
asajjanenācaritāni putra; pāpāny apeyāni madhūni tāni “And those sweet waters that you had
mālyāni caitāni na vai munīnāṃ; smṛtāni citrojjvalagandhavanti Are tasted only by the bad;
And we ascetics never wear
A perfumed garland on our hair.
lomaśa uvāca “Resist the devil, boy”; he said
rakṣāṃsi tānīti nivārya putraṃ; vibhāṇḍakas tāṃ mṛgayāṃ babhūva And then he hunted for the jade;
nāsādayām āsa yadā tryaheṇa; tadā sa paryāvavṛte ''śramāya Three days he sought without success
And ceased for very weariness.
yadā punaḥ kāśyapo vai jagāma; phalāny āhartuṃ vidhinā śrāmaṇena Meantime, the tempting minx returned,
tadā punar lobhayituṃ jagāma; sā veśayoṣā munim ṛśyaśṛṅgam And seeing her, young Deer-horn burned;
dṛṣṭvaiva tām ṛśyaśṛṅgaḥ prahṛṣṭaḥ; saṃbhrāntarūpo 'bhyapatat tadānīm “Come quick,” he said, “and let us roam;
provāca caināṃ bhavato ''śramāya; gacchāva yāvan na pitā mamaiti You see my father’s not at home.
tato rājan kāśyapasyaikaputraṃ; praveśya yogena vimucya nāvam “Your hermitage I fain would view”;
pralobhayantyo vividhair upāyair; ājagmur aṅgādhipateḥ samīpam So, hand in eager hand, they flew
And found a boat and floated down
The river to the royal town.
No sooner did the hermit gain
saṃsthāpya tām āśramadarśane tu; saṃtāritāṃ nāvam atīva śubhrām The royal palace than the rain
tīrād upādāya tathaiva cakre; rājāśramaṃ nāma vanaṃ vicitram Fell, drenching every thirsty part
antaḥpure taṃ tu niveśya rājā; vibhāṇḍakasyātmajam ekaputram And gladdening the sovereign’s heart.
dadarśa devaṃ sahasā pravṛṣṭam; āpūryamāṇaṃ ca jagaj jalena
0552_01 samāyāte ṛṣyaśṛṅge 'tha rājan The joyful monarch to the brave,
sa lomapādaḥ paripūrṇakāmaḥ; sutāṃ dadāv ṛśyaśṛṅgāya śāntām Bewildered young ascetic gave—
Lest he should ever seek release—
A princess—and her name was Peace.
The invitation
Translated from the शार्ङ्गधर-पद्धति by Octavio Paz:
The invitation
Traveler, hurry your steps, be on your way:
the woods are full of wild animals,
snakes, elephants, tigers, and boars,
the sun’s going down and you’re so young to be going alone.
I can’t let you stay,
for I’m a young girl and no one’s home.
Translated from the गाहा-सत्तसई (= गाथा-सप्तशती) by Andrew Schelling:
Mother-in-law
sleeps over there
so does the
rest of the household but
traveler
this is my bed
don’t trip over
it in the dark
Chewed-over rice
More from the “everything-that-can-be-said-has-already-been-said” department. Kumārajīva (344–413 CE), who was translating Buddhist philosophical works from Sanskrit to Chinese, writes:
Once Sanskrit is converted into Chinese, the subtle nuances are lost. Though the general meaning gets across, there is no way to bridge the gap in genre and style. It is like feeding another person with chewed-over rice. Not only is the flavour lost, it will cause the other person to vomit.
Us
यूयं वयं वयं यूयम् इत्यासीन्मतिरावयोः । किञ्जातमधुना येन यूयं यूयं वयं वयम् ॥yūyaṃ vayaṃ vayaṃ yūyam
ity āsīt matir āvayoḥ |
kiṃ jātam adhunā yena
yūyaṃ yūyaṃ vayaṃ vayam ||
Translated by John Brough (1977):
In former days we’d both agree
That you were me, and I was you.
What has now happened to us two,
That you are you, and I am me?
A simple poem, simply translated, and I was struck both by its simplicity and how popular it seems despite (because of?) it. Here’s the place to mention something trite, like “even the simplest poems can be beautiful”. It’s also an example where word order does matter in Sankrit; rearranging the words wouldn’t give the same meaning.
The poem is attributed to Bhartrhari, which, given the nature of such attributions, may mean we don’t know exactly who wrote it. (It doesn’t appear in all recensions.)
[Ryder, probably translating from the variant reading that has “kiṃ jātam adhunā mitra” (so it’s addressed to a friend specifically), does:
FRIENDSHIP’S END
Yes, you were I, and I was you,
So fond the love that linked us two;
Alas, my friend, for friendship’s end!
Now I am I, and you are you.
Unrelated: Regina Spektor, Us
Unwilling translators
Besides the Mahabharata’s translation into Old Javanese (and other Southeast Asian languages) in the 10th/11th century, the first translation into a non-Indian language was into Persian, commissioned by Akbar in 1591.
The translator, Badāyūnī or Badāōnī, relates how it came to be:
The following considerations disposed the emperor to the work. When he had heard the Shāhnāmah, and the story of Āmīr Ḥamzah, in seventeen volumes transcribed in fifteen years, and had spent much gold illuminating it, he also heard the story of Abu Muslim, and the Jāmi’-ul-hikāyat repeated, and it suddenly came into his mind that most of these books were nothing but poetry and fiction; but that, since they were first related in a lucky hour, and when their star was in the act of passing over the sky, they obtained great fame. But now he ordered those Hindu books, which holy and staid sages had written, and which were all clear and convincing proofs and the pivot on which all their religion, and faith, and holiness turned, to be translated from the Indian into the Persian language, and thought to himself, “Why should I not have them done in my name? For they are by no means trite, but quite fresh, and they will produce all kinds of fruits of felicity both temporal and spiritual, and will be the cause of circumstance and pomp, and will ensure an abundance of children and wealth as is written in the preface of these books.”
So apparently, Akbar thought they (Hindu books) were more than mere poetry and fiction, and yet fresh, and he even believed (essentially) the phalashruti told in the books.
But the translator Badāōnī himself, an orthodox Mullā, doesn’t seem to have agreed with his emperor, or liked the job:
The Emperor sent for me and desired me to translate The Mahābhārata, in conjunction with Nāqib Khān. [...] The consequence was that in three or four months I translated two out of eighteen sections, at the puerile absurdities of which the eighteen thousand creations may well be amazed.
<!–(The sections are parvas. The “18000 creations” is a Muslim belief, and unconnected with the recurrence of the number 18 in the Mahābhārata.)–>
Besides finding sections full of “puerile absurdities”, he also found sections objectionable and disturbing to his Muslim sentiments. It led him to complain:
But such is my fate, to be employed on such works. Nevertheless, I console myself with the reflection that what is predestined must come to pass.
Akbar seems to have been merely amused by this reaction:
We thought that [Badāōnī] was an unworldly individual of Ṣūfī tendencies, but he seems to be such a bigoted lawyer that no sword can sever the jugular vein of his bigotry.
The rest of the translation had to be completed by others.
How not to translate: an example
In David Shulman’s beautiful article The Arrow and the Poem (reminded via), he gives an example of the “sheer awfulness” of most Sanskrit translation into English:
Sanskrit may always have attracted just the kind of fussy, pedantic minds that make for the worst possible translators. They produced versions of Sanskrit poetry that were hardly likely to entice: “Shall I set in motion moist breezes by (means of) cool lotus-leaf-fans which-removed languor? Or placing thy feet, brown as the lotus, O round-thighed (maiden), in (my) lap shall I rub them soothingly?” That, believe it or not, is another verse from the play by Kalidasa that I mentioned at the start. The translator, Sir Monier Monier- Williams, held the Boden Chair in Sanskrit at Oxford during the second half of the nineteenth century, and he famously produced one of the major dictionaries for the language, still very much in use. But clearly, like most people, he had no idea how to translate.
(The rest of the article is great too.)
Read the rest of this entry »
Poems
But to remember her my heart is sad, To see her is to know Bewildered thoughts, and touching driveth mad — How is she dear that worketh only woe? (P.E. More, 1899) The thought of her is saddening, The sight of her is fear, The touch of her is maddening— Can she be really dear? (Ryder, 1910)
These are both translations of Sanskrit poems, and quite obviously of the same one.1 The difference in style is not entirely due to the 10 years between them. :-)
Following the previous post, which egregiously violated “Show, don’t tell” — with a whole lot of telling and nothing to show for it — here are a couple more random examples of short verses that I feel are successful in translation. [As I started gathering examples, this post started turning into a tribute to Ryder, so I’ve cut that off for another time. What I like is obviously subjective, and I’m easily delighted by a simple rhyme. :-) Of course, most good poems can be translated into prose or free verse and still remain beautiful; the below are merely examples of translations being cleverly coerced into the verse forms of English.] I avoided commentary on the poems — for attempting it would be futile — and only touch on the translation.
This is from Amaru:
SHE ONLY LOOKED She did not redden nor deny My entrance to her room; She did not speak an angry word; She did not fret and fume; She did not frown upon poor me, Her lover now as then; She only looked at me the way She looks at other men.
The core of the poem, its sting, is in the last two lines, and it may owe more to the inherent rhythms of the English language than to the skill of the translator that the natural way of expression fits so neatly into metre, but few other translators would have exploited it so well.
Also from Amaru:
WHEN MY LOVE DRAWS NIGH When my love draws nigh, When his voice I hear, Why am I all eye? Why am I all ear?
How simple! As is the next one:
SIMPLE JUSTICE If, maiden of the lotus eye, Your anger hurts you so, 'Tis right you should not let it die, You hardly could, you know. But once I gave you an embrace, To keep it would be pain; And once I kissed your willing face, Give me that kiss again.
On Translation: Exhibit 1
Translating Sanskrit poetry into English presents unique difficulties. To be sure, translation is always tricky. Passing to a different language invariably loses some nuances and overtones. What can be naturally expressed in one language may require more effort in another.
With Sanskrit, though, even essential features are often untranslatable to a native English audience.
[Disclaimer: Before going further, I must point out that I am an amateur. Everything below is probably wrong, they are banal and pointless observations, anyway, and I amaze myself by my ability to take something interesting and make it boring. I thought I had something to say, but it took writing it out to realise I didn't.]
