gulab khandelwal selected poems
To tell the truth,
I have written nothing original,
I have only transcreated.
Copying the ideas of some one else,
I have always clothed his feelings in my words.
It is also true,
There was none here to care for him;
Neither he was praised from public-platforms,
Nor any mention of him was to be found
In the histories of literature.
Still, it is strange,
People hear my translations with great interest,
Praise me at every word,
Nod their heads approvingly
At every syllable;
Is it due to the fact
That my words reflect honestly
The feelings of the original ?
Each line of the face,
Every gesture of the heart
Like those of a statue
Put in a transparent glass-case
Are truly painted in my poems ?
It does not make any difference
That I have poured my affections
On a tiny particle of sand,
It does not make any difference,
That I have not adopted any great luminary
As the model for my pictures.
If there is truth in my love,
Art in my fingers,
And dedication in my heart,
My smallest expression
Will reflect the feelings of every man.