This book has been a clandestine romance all along; Selim makes no bones in admitting that this romance was initiated back in 1973 (I believe, the translator was studying literature in the US in those days) that continued till today.

ANSHUMAN BHOWMICK

Poetry and Bangali gentlemen are perennial bedfellows. Unlike some romances that die young, a regular Bangali male, once smitten by the muse of poetry, never quite relinquishes that moment of epiphany. He keeps coming back to it whenever an occasion shows up. Thus, Abdus Selim, one of the most prolific translators of Bangladesh, with a mind boggling collection of plays that he has transplanted from lands near and far into our soil, finds an opportunity to return to his first love—poetry. And boy oh boy, have we been presented with an exquisite collection of poems culled from the whole Anglophone ecosystem rendered in exquisite Bangla!

When we say ‘Anglophone ecosystem’, we, of course, imply all the English translations from major languages like Spanish, French, German, et al. As a translator, Selim takes full advantage of the Anglophone privilege. In Shobdo O Bodher Kobita (roughly translating to Poetry of Sound and Sense ), Selim accommodates 33 poems by 21 poets representing seven nations and six languages. In addition to the languages one would expect in such a volume, the list includes Japanese and Russian, demonstrating Selim’s genuine interest in poetry at large.

This book has been a clandestine romance all along; Selim makes no bones in admitting that this romance was initiated back in 1973 (I believe, the translator was studying literature in the US in those days) that continued till today. Thus, the poems in this volume reflect both the purity of young love and the autumnal leaves.

Such diversity also reflects an educated Bangali’s passion for literature of the world, a rarity these days. As I studied the poems—the translations and the originals, whenever I had an opportunity side by side—I was marvelled by Selim’s complete command over the ‘tatsama’ elements in literary Bangla. This, facilitated by his penchant for matters linguistic, makes Selim a perfect representative of the last generation of Bangalis who inherited a multilingual ethos and chose to hone one’s skills in several languages, including academic Bangla spiced with Sanskrit delicacies.This inheritance is rich, in every sense.

Selim does a marvellous job with Mathew Arnold’s “Dover Beach” (1867), encapsulating the meditative mood of the original with smart deployment of transferred epithets. On reading Selim’s rendering of John Keats’ “On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer” (1816), I was reminded of Jibananda Das debts to the wealth of literary allusions employed by the second generation of English Romantic poets, and also how Das emulated the syntax of Keats’ language in “Much have I travelled in the realms of gold” (1820) to pen the opening verse of Banalata Sen.

Irrespective of the ambivalence that marks Metaphysical poetry of the 17th century, Selim marvels us with his choice of words and precision of utterance. The rendering of John Donne’s sermon starting “No Man is an Island” (1624) is a case in point. Sometimes, Selim’s translations are so lucid and musical that you feel like reading out his adaptation of Maya Angelou’s “Still I Rise” (1978).

Some poems spring a surprise. Yevgeny Yevtushenko’s “My Universities”, for instance, is a socialist gem composed during the years of Communist atrocity. Jack Hirschman’s “The Twin Towers Arcane” is a moving paean to the worst human massacre of recent years. That Selim introduces each poet in a few lines is helpful for the readers. As for publishing details, Selim gives the original titles at the end of each poem and names the English translators of non-English poems.

Translation is also about acknowledging the untranslatable. While digging into the culture specific registers of T S Eliot’s “Ash Wednesday” (1930) for example, Selim leaves the title as it is.

Only one upsetting aspect lies in the production front. The proofing was below-par. And the cover design reflected nothing of the nuances that poetry carries.

Anshuman Bhowmick is a cultural commentator and theatre critic based in Calcutta.