Skip to main content

Daffodils in 'hindi'

I came across a beautiful hindi translation of William Wordsworth's Daffodils. Yes, Hindi. It's done by Ian Woolford. In his own words, he is an UK born American in Oz | Hindi Lecturer @La Trobe University | Language, Literature, Folklore | फणीश्वरनाथ रेणु पर किताब लिख रहा हूँ. He is writing a book on one of the most influential modern hindi writers, Phanishwarnath Renu.
Woolford translates quotes in hindi as well, and they are really good. Case in point this:

मज़ाक एक बहुत ही गंभीर चीज़ होती है. ~ विंस्टन चर्चिल

His translation of Daffodils is what blew my mind. Absolutely brilliant. I felt so pleased upon reading it.

घूमते फिरते मैं—मेघ एकमात्र
जैसे घाटी-पहाड़ मंडरा रहा था
एकाएक देखा
क्या—भीड़, समवाय
सुनहरा, सुहावना डैफोडिल की
~ विलियम वर्ड्सवर्थ

My love for hindi poetry has rejuvenated since last december, and when I see the wealth of hindi literature available on the internet and the choicest bookstores, I am only too inspired to read and write more.
The People's Book House stacks an amazing collection of Hindi Magazines and Sahitya Akademi Catalogues along with Hindi Poetry. I found various editions of poetry written by Agyey. Indeed, a treasure for literature lovers.

Comments

  1. can you share the full trnsltion in hindi?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi. These were the only translated lines I could find posted by him.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Book Tales

A cancelled lunch date led my feet astray to the book treasures on Flora Fountain. This happened on a busy Monday afternoon. I promised myself I wouldn't engage my eyes on books anymore after I ended up spending a whole lot more than I usually do. It feels like an addiction, something I can't let go off. While I am sure books will and should not be recognised as harmful addiction, I am painfully aware of the fact that splurging money on anything every time we see it is unhealthy. Of course, I know the psychology and the hard facts too, but buying books feels like conquering the access way to treasures of an inexpressible happy state of mind.
When I was young, losing myself in the book world was not just for the introduction into the big wide unseen world but also for the love of imagination. I was fascinated with colours and story telling, had a thirst for adventure that seemed strangely missing in my childhood as it was so pronounced in Enid Blyton's books. I could never…

Tuesday mirror

I was hoping to write more consistently when December started but alas, I haven't been able to write as much as I hoped to. Last few weeks have been a blur, mostly, occupied with academics and lots of insignificant stuff I haven't had the opportunity to analyse yet. I have a feeling I will end up over-analysing this state of mind unless I speak with my friend, Shree, first. We share a great telepathic wavelength. We connect so instantly even after a long span of no conversation that sometimes I truly think technology won't be a necessity if either of us were stranded on a desert island. Also, since it's December, it means I will be writing about my unfinished reads and to-reads. Over time I have started recognising the presence of the humongous pile of books I've amassed in these last two months that sit huddled on a sofa chair in the living room. Most of them bear signs of my having handled them, with marked coloured passages that really make me happy when I thin…