Shakespere / Sonnet 147.
--
I admit I never read Him.
Yesterday I was 'searching' for "As black as dark" because I was thinking of writing a poem including / starting with this very line.
And then in 'Search' I found this Sonnet, namely -147.
I read this several times, and because my way of understanding literature is first understanding the same in my own way and comprehending it in many aspects. Sometimes when I feel I am really 'connected', I translate the same in Hindi / Sanskrit. And in the same vein I translated this one.
Dedicated to those who can understand and love Hindi.
And I don't think this needs any 'introduction'. In my view, an artist, a painter, composer, and a man of letters needs no introduction.
The one who really appreciates 'Art' in any form could readily find oneself in tune with the 'composition'.
--
SONNET 147
My love is as a fever, longing still,
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve,
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At random from the truth vainly express'd;
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
--
शेक्सपीयर,
सॉनेट् 147.
--
मेरा प्रेम एक ज्वर है, अभी तक तरसता हुआ,
उसके लिए जो देर तक पालता है रोग को,
और उससे पोषित, जो यद्यपि रोगी की रक्षा करता है,
इष्ट को प्रसन्न करने की उस रुग्ण, अनिश्चित क्षुधातुरता से ।
मेरे प्रेम का चिकित्सक, मेरा युक्तिसंगत तर्क,
नाराज है, कि उसकी सलाहों पर ध्यान नहीं दिया जाता,
छोड़ दिया है उसने मुझे, और मेरा हताश आग्रह है,
कि इच्छा मृत्यु है, जिसे मान्य नहीं करता, मेरा चिकित्सक !
उपचार से परे हो चुका मैं, चिन्ता से परे हुआ तर्क,
और लगातार बढ़ता जा रहा है, -विक्षिप्त-पागलपन;
मानों मेरे ख़याल और चिन्तन किसी पागल के हों,
व्यर्थ में व्यक्त किए जा रहे यथार्थ से विभ्रमित;
क्योंकि मैंने तुम्हें निर्मल समझा, सोचा था तुम्हें उज्ज्वल,
यद्यपि तुम, जो कि हो नरक जैसी घोर, रात्रि जैसी गूढ़ ।
--
--
--
I admit I never read Him.
Yesterday I was 'searching' for "As black as dark" because I was thinking of writing a poem including / starting with this very line.
And then in 'Search' I found this Sonnet, namely -147.
I read this several times, and because my way of understanding literature is first understanding the same in my own way and comprehending it in many aspects. Sometimes when I feel I am really 'connected', I translate the same in Hindi / Sanskrit. And in the same vein I translated this one.
Dedicated to those who can understand and love Hindi.
And I don't think this needs any 'introduction'. In my view, an artist, a painter, composer, and a man of letters needs no introduction.
The one who really appreciates 'Art' in any form could readily find oneself in tune with the 'composition'.
--
SONNET 147
My love is as a fever, longing still,
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve,
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At random from the truth vainly express'd;
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
--
शेक्सपीयर,
सॉनेट् 147.
--
मेरा प्रेम एक ज्वर है, अभी तक तरसता हुआ,
उसके लिए जो देर तक पालता है रोग को,
और उससे पोषित, जो यद्यपि रोगी की रक्षा करता है,
इष्ट को प्रसन्न करने की उस रुग्ण, अनिश्चित क्षुधातुरता से ।
मेरे प्रेम का चिकित्सक, मेरा युक्तिसंगत तर्क,
नाराज है, कि उसकी सलाहों पर ध्यान नहीं दिया जाता,
छोड़ दिया है उसने मुझे, और मेरा हताश आग्रह है,
कि इच्छा मृत्यु है, जिसे मान्य नहीं करता, मेरा चिकित्सक !
उपचार से परे हो चुका मैं, चिन्ता से परे हुआ तर्क,
और लगातार बढ़ता जा रहा है, -विक्षिप्त-पागलपन;
मानों मेरे ख़याल और चिन्तन किसी पागल के हों,
व्यर्थ में व्यक्त किए जा रहे यथार्थ से विभ्रमित;
क्योंकि मैंने तुम्हें निर्मल समझा, सोचा था तुम्हें उज्ज्वल,
यद्यपि तुम, जो कि हो नरक जैसी घोर, रात्रि जैसी गूढ़ ।
--
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