After this conversation over at Kufr blog, I got to thinking about translating this song. Here it is. It is not at all how the original in Telugu is. I won't go into details of why such a loss is the most difficult thing to recover. I am leaving the comments section open just in case someone has a better result or a corrective suggestion.
How many more years...!
[Missing two lines]
This bloodshed, this violence, still how many more years...!
Lords, ruling chiefs, elders...!
O, well-armed ring leaders
O lord Samaranagireddi... you,
Do be cozy my lord, do be in comfort
Bharatavirareddi... you, shall
Hand out the bombs
Our people... shall
Tread that path
Narasimha nayudu, you... shall
Snap your fingers
And all these people... shall
Jiggy in ringers
Narasimha nayudu lord, you,
Narasimha nayudu lord, you... shall
Bristle your moustache in pride
We shall rush with our incensed anger
Indrasenareddi...! Indrasenareddi shall
Cast high as moon, shall
Sit on heaven's throne
The umbrellas over your head we are
The soles under your feet we are
The machetes in your fists we are
Hound dogs, that chase
At your roil, ruffle and hiss, are we
Sons, who slaughter
Even a blood-brother at your wrath, are we
Do be cozy my lord, do be in comfort
O, well-armed lordly lords
O, well-armed ring leaders
O, faction leaders
Do be cozy my lords, do be in comfort
May your last born be,
May your last born be
Given the visa for America
Be happy There
May your first born, be an SP and
May your first born, be an SP and
Swing the truncheon
Look after you
In a manner with no cases
Collector, like a son-in-law, shall
Bear your feet's burden
Authority, like a dog, shall
Watch over you
Our cow herding son
Shall lift up your hatchet
Shall decapitate as many heads
As the morsels from you
Do be cozy my lords, do be in comfort
Your thousand-noter
We shall receive with humility
Sever the arm
Of whomever you show,
And show you
Your five thousand-noter
We shall receive with joy
Cut off the two legs of one of them
And show you
At your call for tender
We shall raise working heads
If the work stalls,
If the work stalls we shall be
Bones of your contention
When we gave you bombs
You fed us your expensive whisky
Your delicious food
And so if harm's your way,
Though our little one shivers
With cold and fever,
We shall go even at night,
And though the month-old bride
Is alone at home we shall
Seize our hunting knives,
At your times of trouble
If you give us bombs
We shall hurl, as play balls
For your sake
On our own heads
Do be cozy my lords, do be in comfort
As hired guns, we shall bear the blame
As country's leaders, you shall gain merit
What do you say...!
Playing your part, heroes shall strike a hit
Seeing that cinema, our folks shall whistle
Next to Gandhi, Nehru shall be your pictures
In police stations shall be our photos
Do be cozy my lords, do be in comfort
Dear CF,
I have no words to express my gratitude. I thought I understood the images, I believed that his words could not have been very different from what goes through my mind each time I read about disparate incidents and see such images. How wrong I was.
Can one call this a beautiful song? Yes I am beginning to understand what you meant by not translatable, I am glad and touched by this effort, this gesture.
anu
Posted by: anu | August 09, 2009 at 08:21 PM
Anu,
Of course. When you say, "I understood the images," somehow I think you are not referring to the images in the video shoot. Or are you? Can you speak more? I am curious to know what were your expectations of the images. The images in the video are a somewhat straightforward visual transliteration of the song verses, and this appears to be a real footage, not a staged one.
Crazyfinger
Posted by: Crazyfinger | August 10, 2009 at 06:43 AM
CF,
Transliteration? Are they? I thought the words would refer to the searing pain of severed limbs, that they were describing the horror of lost livelihoods that depend on those very limbs. I thought the bride was a newly widowed woman. I thought it was revenge and manipulated group fights.
I did not realize it was a linear story of master and slave. With the slave exposing the brutality of the master, by enumerating the way he carries out the master’s orders.
The primal need to protect child, wife, brother and property by a human is not referred to by its loss but by its control in the whims and wishes of the oppressor. This ‘Job’ does not wonder why God is testing him. This Job knows the corruptness and egotism of power that makes God who he is. This song will only terrorize God not please him as he forever is made to face the mirror that Job holds up for him to introspect, which he will not. And violence of life continues endlessly. You were perfectly right. this story telling is Biblical in its subtlety and restrained intensities.
anu
Posted by: anu | August 10, 2009 at 09:57 PM