I often dream I'm translating Orhan Pamuk
into something marginally less gay
So, Stan Bull 'spite Galip's galehaut of a book
Bard not Self-buggery for aye.
Abreeze, thoughts ribald as these, here to hear rattle sere leaves
Brompton Cemetery trees : Cities' Autumn oneiric weaves
In vain. Twain vane to this, in vein, Rabelaisian gust
Bard not Self-buggery for aye.
Abreeze, thoughts ribald as these, here to hear rattle sere leaves
Brompton Cemetery trees : Cities' Autumn oneiric weaves
In vain. Twain vane to this, in vein, Rabelaisian gust
Yours deaf & mine dust.
2 comments:
"I am not your fader but your moder," quod he,
"Your fader was a rich merchant in Stambouli."
Is there an Urdu translation of Sheikh Galip's 'Beauty & Love"? It seems the young lad, Ishq, was indifferent to the maiden, Husn, till Sukhan, the wise elder, explained her plight to him.
Is there any ode on this theme in Indian languages?
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