• TABLE OF CONTENT
    • the dreaming machine – issue number 16
    • the dreaming machine – issue number 15
    • the dreaming machine – issue number 14
    • the dreaming machine – issue number 13
    • the dreaming machine – issue number 12
    • The dreaming machine – issue number 11
    • The dreaming machine – issue number 10
    • The dreaming machine – issue number 9
    • The dreaming machine – issue number 8
    • The dreaming machine – issue number 7
    • The dreaming machine – issue number 6
    • The dreaming machine – issue number 5
    • The dreaming machine – issue number 4
    • The dreaming machine – issue number 3
    • The dreaming machine – issue number 2
    • The dreaming machine – issue number 1
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    • The dreaming machine n 16
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    • The dreaming machine n 14
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    • The dreaming machine n 12
    • The dreaming machine n 11
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  • Poetry
    The God of Submission Loves Gentle Calves and Other Poems –  Yuliya Musakovska

    The God of Submission Loves Gentle Calves and Other Poems – Yuliya Musakovska

    Calixto Robles and Ancestral Spirits in the Mission – A Conversation on Art, Society and Social Action

    Hence, the walruses will keep our memories – Poems from Ikaro Valderrama’s Tengri: The Book of Mysteries

    Eva Bovenzi: The inner world. The artist in conversation with curator Camilla Boemio

    “When Crimea Was Not a Grief”: Six Poems by Lyudmyla Khersonska, from 21st Century Ukraine

    Of Hunger and Tents: Poems from Gaza by Yousef el-Qedra

    Of Hunger and Tents: Poems from Gaza by Yousef el-Qedra

    Ratko Lalić’s painting, a little Noah’s ark –  Božidar Stanišić  

    The region suddenly turned into a deciduous forest. Poems by Paulami Sengupta

    Eva Bovenzi: The inner world. The artist in conversation with curator Camilla Boemio

    A False Dimension: regarding the empty walls – Aritra Sanyal

  • Fiction
    The Spanish Steps, Revisited: A Temporary Exhibition – A conversation with Sheila Pepe

    The Importance of Being Imperfect – Haroonuzzaman

    THE STATE – Hamim Faruque

    THE STATE – Hamim Faruque

    Tempus Fugit (in D Minor) – Michele Carenini

    Tempus Fugit (in D Minor) – Michele Carenini

    Eva Bovenzi: The inner world. The artist in conversation with curator Camilla Boemio

    A Mirage of a Dream – Kazi Rafi

    Prologue to “Maya and the World of the Spirits” – Gaius Tsaamo

    Prologue to “Maya and the World of the Spirits” – Gaius Tsaamo

    RETRIBUTION – Mojaffor Hossain

    RETRIBUTION – Mojaffor Hossain

    A Nation’s Reckoning on a Rickshaw: Photogallery from Bangladesh in turmoil – Melina and Pina Piccolo

    Between Two Lives – Mojaffor Hossain

    A Nation’s Reckoning on a Rickshaw: Photogallery from Bangladesh in turmoil – Melina and Pina Piccolo

    The Amatory Rainy Night – Kazi Rafi

    Chapter 1 of “Come What May”, a detective story set in Gaza, by Ahmed Masoud

    Come What May, chpt. 11 – Ahmed Masoud

  • Non Fiction
    I AM STILL HERE: It’s not a movie, it’s a hymn to democracy – Loretta Emiri

    I AM STILL HERE: It’s not a movie, it’s a hymn to democracy – Loretta Emiri

    Requiem for a Mattanza – Gia Marie Amella

    Requiem for a Mattanza – Gia Marie Amella

    In Defense of T.C. Boyle: Satire in the Era of Psychological Realism – Clark Bouwman

    In Defense of T.C. Boyle: Satire in the Era of Psychological Realism – Clark Bouwman

    Calixto Robles and Ancestral Spirits in the Mission – A Conversation on Art, Society and Social Action

    That is the Face – Appadurai Muttulingam

    Langston Hughes: Shakespeare in Harlem – Barry David Horwitz

    Langston Hughes: Shakespeare in Harlem – Barry David Horwitz

    The Creeping of the Spirit of the Times and Other Poems – Pina Piccolo

    Understanding the Quintessential Divinity: Binding the Two Geographies – Haroonuzzaman

  • Interviews & reviews
    Michelle Reale’s Volta: An Italian-American Reckoning With Race. Necessary turnabouts as  Columbus Day returns amidst Sinners’ vampires – Pina Piccolo

    Michelle Reale’s Volta: An Italian-American Reckoning With Race. Necessary turnabouts as Columbus Day returns amidst Sinners’ vampires – Pina Piccolo

    from The Creative Process: The Future of activism.  Bayo Akomolafe interviewed by Mia Funk and Natalie McCarthy

    from The Creative Process: The Future of activism. Bayo Akomolafe interviewed by Mia Funk and Natalie McCarthy

    The Spanish Steps, Revisited: A Temporary Exhibition – A conversation with Sheila Pepe

    The Spanish Steps, Revisited: A Temporary Exhibition – A conversation with Sheila Pepe

    from The Creative Process: A Life in Writing with T.C. Boyle, interviewed by Mia Funk & Cary Trott

    from The Creative Process: A Life in Writing with T.C. Boyle, interviewed by Mia Funk & Cary Trott

    Living as a painter: Shaun McDowell in conversation with curator Camilla Boemio

    Living as a painter: Shaun McDowell in conversation with curator Camilla Boemio

    Calixto Robles and Ancestral Spirits in the Mission – A Conversation on Art, Society and Social Action

    Calixto Robles and Ancestral Spirits in the Mission – A Conversation on Art, Society and Social Action

  • Out of bounds
    • All
    • Fiction
    • Intersections
    • Interviews and reviews
    • Non fiction
    • Poetry
    Eva Bovenzi: The inner world. The artist in conversation with curator Camilla Boemio

    Area Sacra at Torre di Largo Argentina —or, Calpurnia’s Dream – Laura Hinton

    from The Creative Process: TIOKASIN GHOSTHORSE, interviewed by Mia Funk and Melannie Munoz

    from The Creative Process: TIOKASIN GHOSTHORSE, interviewed by Mia Funk and Melannie Munoz

    The Creeping of the Spirit of the Times and Other Poems – Pina Piccolo

    From The Stony Guests, Part IV: SIRAN BAKIRCI and SAIT B. KARAKAYA – Neil P. Doherty

    Eva Bovenzi: The inner world. The artist in conversation with curator Camilla Boemio

    Chaos Theory – Michele Carenini

    Of People and Puppets, Kingdoms of Silence, Trauma and Storytelling: Review of “Azad, the rabbit and the wolf – Pina Piccolo

    Of People and Puppets, Kingdoms of Silence, Trauma and Storytelling: Review of “Azad, the rabbit and the wolf – Pina Piccolo

    The Creeping of the Spirit of the Times and Other Poems – Pina Piccolo

    The Creeping of the Spirit of the Times and Other Poems – Pina Piccolo

    Poetry is also born from Gesture – Ikaro Valderrama on Gestos de la Poesia, transnational poetry, multimedia and the energy of the Andes

    Poetry is also born from Gesture – Ikaro Valderrama on Gestos de la Poesia, transnational poetry, multimedia and the energy of the Andes

    A loneliness like an endless steppe – Poems from Maria Luisa Vezzali’s collection Home Ghost

    A loneliness like an endless steppe – Poems from Maria Luisa Vezzali’s collection Home Ghost

    The Creeping of the Spirit of the Times and Other Poems – Pina Piccolo

    Once the veil of artifice falls away: Poems by Haroonuzzaman

  • News
    Memorial Reading Marathon for Julio Monteiro Martins, Dec. 27, zoom live

    Memorial Reading Marathon for Julio Monteiro Martins, Dec. 27, zoom live

    PER/FORMATIVE CITIES

    PER/FORMATIVE CITIES

    HAIR IN THE WIND – Calling on poets to join international project in solidarity with the women of Iran

    HAIR IN THE WIND – Calling on poets to join international project in solidarity with the women of Iran

    THE DREAMING MACHINE ISSUE N. 11 WILL BE OUT ON DEC. 10

    THE DREAMING MACHINE ISSUE N. 11 WILL BE OUT ON DEC. 10

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5:  Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5: Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

  • Home
  • Poetry
    The God of Submission Loves Gentle Calves and Other Poems –  Yuliya Musakovska

    The God of Submission Loves Gentle Calves and Other Poems – Yuliya Musakovska

    Calixto Robles and Ancestral Spirits in the Mission – A Conversation on Art, Society and Social Action

    Hence, the walruses will keep our memories – Poems from Ikaro Valderrama’s Tengri: The Book of Mysteries

    Eva Bovenzi: The inner world. The artist in conversation with curator Camilla Boemio

    “When Crimea Was Not a Grief”: Six Poems by Lyudmyla Khersonska, from 21st Century Ukraine

    Of Hunger and Tents: Poems from Gaza by Yousef el-Qedra

    Of Hunger and Tents: Poems from Gaza by Yousef el-Qedra

    Ratko Lalić’s painting, a little Noah’s ark –  Božidar Stanišić  

    The region suddenly turned into a deciduous forest. Poems by Paulami Sengupta

    Eva Bovenzi: The inner world. The artist in conversation with curator Camilla Boemio

    A False Dimension: regarding the empty walls – Aritra Sanyal

  • Fiction
    The Spanish Steps, Revisited: A Temporary Exhibition – A conversation with Sheila Pepe

    The Importance of Being Imperfect – Haroonuzzaman

    THE STATE – Hamim Faruque

    THE STATE – Hamim Faruque

    Tempus Fugit (in D Minor) – Michele Carenini

    Tempus Fugit (in D Minor) – Michele Carenini

    Eva Bovenzi: The inner world. The artist in conversation with curator Camilla Boemio

    A Mirage of a Dream – Kazi Rafi

    Prologue to “Maya and the World of the Spirits” – Gaius Tsaamo

    Prologue to “Maya and the World of the Spirits” – Gaius Tsaamo

    RETRIBUTION – Mojaffor Hossain

    RETRIBUTION – Mojaffor Hossain

    A Nation’s Reckoning on a Rickshaw: Photogallery from Bangladesh in turmoil – Melina and Pina Piccolo

    Between Two Lives – Mojaffor Hossain

    A Nation’s Reckoning on a Rickshaw: Photogallery from Bangladesh in turmoil – Melina and Pina Piccolo

    The Amatory Rainy Night – Kazi Rafi

    Chapter 1 of “Come What May”, a detective story set in Gaza, by Ahmed Masoud

    Come What May, chpt. 11 – Ahmed Masoud

  • Non Fiction
    I AM STILL HERE: It’s not a movie, it’s a hymn to democracy – Loretta Emiri

    I AM STILL HERE: It’s not a movie, it’s a hymn to democracy – Loretta Emiri

    Requiem for a Mattanza – Gia Marie Amella

    Requiem for a Mattanza – Gia Marie Amella

    In Defense of T.C. Boyle: Satire in the Era of Psychological Realism – Clark Bouwman

    In Defense of T.C. Boyle: Satire in the Era of Psychological Realism – Clark Bouwman

    Calixto Robles and Ancestral Spirits in the Mission – A Conversation on Art, Society and Social Action

    That is the Face – Appadurai Muttulingam

    Langston Hughes: Shakespeare in Harlem – Barry David Horwitz

    Langston Hughes: Shakespeare in Harlem – Barry David Horwitz

    The Creeping of the Spirit of the Times and Other Poems – Pina Piccolo

    Understanding the Quintessential Divinity: Binding the Two Geographies – Haroonuzzaman

  • Interviews & reviews
    Michelle Reale’s Volta: An Italian-American Reckoning With Race. Necessary turnabouts as  Columbus Day returns amidst Sinners’ vampires – Pina Piccolo

    Michelle Reale’s Volta: An Italian-American Reckoning With Race. Necessary turnabouts as Columbus Day returns amidst Sinners’ vampires – Pina Piccolo

    from The Creative Process: The Future of activism.  Bayo Akomolafe interviewed by Mia Funk and Natalie McCarthy

    from The Creative Process: The Future of activism. Bayo Akomolafe interviewed by Mia Funk and Natalie McCarthy

    The Spanish Steps, Revisited: A Temporary Exhibition – A conversation with Sheila Pepe

    The Spanish Steps, Revisited: A Temporary Exhibition – A conversation with Sheila Pepe

    from The Creative Process: A Life in Writing with T.C. Boyle, interviewed by Mia Funk & Cary Trott

    from The Creative Process: A Life in Writing with T.C. Boyle, interviewed by Mia Funk & Cary Trott

    Living as a painter: Shaun McDowell in conversation with curator Camilla Boemio

    Living as a painter: Shaun McDowell in conversation with curator Camilla Boemio

    Calixto Robles and Ancestral Spirits in the Mission – A Conversation on Art, Society and Social Action

    Calixto Robles and Ancestral Spirits in the Mission – A Conversation on Art, Society and Social Action

  • Out of bounds
    • All
    • Fiction
    • Intersections
    • Interviews and reviews
    • Non fiction
    • Poetry
    Eva Bovenzi: The inner world. The artist in conversation with curator Camilla Boemio

    Area Sacra at Torre di Largo Argentina —or, Calpurnia’s Dream – Laura Hinton

    from The Creative Process: TIOKASIN GHOSTHORSE, interviewed by Mia Funk and Melannie Munoz

    from The Creative Process: TIOKASIN GHOSTHORSE, interviewed by Mia Funk and Melannie Munoz

    The Creeping of the Spirit of the Times and Other Poems – Pina Piccolo

    From The Stony Guests, Part IV: SIRAN BAKIRCI and SAIT B. KARAKAYA – Neil P. Doherty

    Eva Bovenzi: The inner world. The artist in conversation with curator Camilla Boemio

    Chaos Theory – Michele Carenini

    Of People and Puppets, Kingdoms of Silence, Trauma and Storytelling: Review of “Azad, the rabbit and the wolf – Pina Piccolo

    Of People and Puppets, Kingdoms of Silence, Trauma and Storytelling: Review of “Azad, the rabbit and the wolf – Pina Piccolo

    The Creeping of the Spirit of the Times and Other Poems – Pina Piccolo

    The Creeping of the Spirit of the Times and Other Poems – Pina Piccolo

    Poetry is also born from Gesture – Ikaro Valderrama on Gestos de la Poesia, transnational poetry, multimedia and the energy of the Andes

    Poetry is also born from Gesture – Ikaro Valderrama on Gestos de la Poesia, transnational poetry, multimedia and the energy of the Andes

    A loneliness like an endless steppe – Poems from Maria Luisa Vezzali’s collection Home Ghost

    A loneliness like an endless steppe – Poems from Maria Luisa Vezzali’s collection Home Ghost

    The Creeping of the Spirit of the Times and Other Poems – Pina Piccolo

    Once the veil of artifice falls away: Poems by Haroonuzzaman

  • News
    Memorial Reading Marathon for Julio Monteiro Martins, Dec. 27, zoom live

    Memorial Reading Marathon for Julio Monteiro Martins, Dec. 27, zoom live

    PER/FORMATIVE CITIES

    PER/FORMATIVE CITIES

    HAIR IN THE WIND – Calling on poets to join international project in solidarity with the women of Iran

    HAIR IN THE WIND – Calling on poets to join international project in solidarity with the women of Iran

    THE DREAMING MACHINE ISSUE N. 11 WILL BE OUT ON DEC. 10

    THE DREAMING MACHINE ISSUE N. 11 WILL BE OUT ON DEC. 10

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5:  Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5: Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

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Explorers of Consciousness – A glance at contemporary feminist poetry in India (Part I)

from issue n. 79 of Italian print journal Le Voci della Luna; introduction by Nandini Sahu, poetry by Sanjukta Bandyopadhy, Taniya Chakraborty and Debarati Mitra, with Italian translation.

May 2, 2021
in Poetry, The dreaming machine n 8
Explorers of Consciousness  – A glance at contemporary feminist poetry in India (Part I)
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The Dreaming Machine is delighted to reprise for our readers the following international project launched a few months ago by Italian print journal Le Voci della Luna in its issue n. 79.  Introduced by Nandini Sahu’s critical essay  which provides an engaging and informative overview of the development of feminist poetry  by female poets in India, the project includes several poems by five important contemporary poetic voices from different generations and states of the Indian subcontinent, writing in different languages, most of them translated into English, thus providing  a bridge for the Italian translation. Though the whole, bilingual English and Italian  project was published in a single issue in March 2021 in Le Voci della luna, with the photography of Sumana Mitra on the cover and accompanying the poems, here we present the project in two parts, the second one including  two poets- Sanghamitra Halder and  Mandakranta Sen, an interview with Sumana Mitra as well as a gallery of her photos used for the Voci della Luna issue. Part II will end with a brief  survey of issues and challenges encountered by the five  Italian translators Lou Vezzali, Loredana Magazzeni, Francesca del Moro, Jessy Simonini and Pina Piccolo.


In May 2011, while talking to Royal Geographic Society in London, V S Naipaul, the recipient of the 2001 Nobel Prize in Literature, slammed out at female authors saying there is no woman writer whom he deliberates his equal. Even he claimed that Jane Austen couldn’t perhaps share her sentimental spirits, her emotional sense of the world. He felt women writers were “quite different,” by which he, of course, meant “quite inferior”. He said, “I read a piece of writing and within a paragraph or two I know whether it is by a woman or not. I think [it is] unequal to me.” (guardian.co.uk).

In response to this age old patriarchal debate, it’a welcome step by Italian literary journal le Voci della Luna to take up extensive research work on feminist poets across the globe.

Indian English Literature is an endeavour of presenting the major voices of India to the world literature; a new form of Indian philosophy in which the common Indian speaks out to the world. Indian writers have been making important contributions to world literature. In the post-Independence era, the academia has seen a massive embellishment of Indian English writing in the form of poetry. Indian Poetry in English, before Independence, was rather dominated by the male poets who wrote either on philosophical subjects or on nationalism. Rabindranath Tagore and Aurobindo Ghosh were the two poetic giants who dominated the literary scene though Toru Dutt and Sarojini Naidu succeeded in carving a niche for themselves in Indian Poetry in English, and they were practising what may be called ‘safe’ poetry for women poets. The post-1947 scenario was also not very encouraging from the point of view of women’s poetry in English. Then Kamala Das created her identity all over the world through her realistic  treatment of love and sex, often stripping it of illusory romanticisms and thereby creating her own brand of ‘confessional’ poetry. Eunice de Souza did a laudable effort by editing an anthology titled Nine Indian Women Poets (OUP,1997) . She included nine post-independence Indian women poets: Kamala Das, Mamta Kalia, Melanie Silgardo, Eunice de Souza, Imtiaz Dharker, Smita Agarwal, Sujata Bhatt, Charmayne D’ Souza and Tara Patel and took up  themes like time, history, social problems, spiritualism, ecology, language etc. Apart from them, there have been many other contemporary women poets like Meena Alexander, Monika Varma, Gauri Deshpande, Margaret Chatterjee, Lakshmi Kannan, Anamika, Shanta Acharya,Sunita Jain, Lila Ray, Savita Singh, Anna Sujatha Mathai, Nirupama Narasimham, Rukmini Bhaya Nair, Sanjukta Dasgupta, Smita Tewari,Nandini Sahu, Archna Sahni, Rizio Yahannan Raj, Preeti Singh, Sagari Chhabra,Rita Malhotra, Sukrita Paul Kumar,K Srilata, Arundhati Subramaniam etc. who are articulating the feminine sensibility while genuinely articulating women’s marginalization. Today, Indian women poets, through their powerful poetry, have created a milieu which is a platform for divulging and affirming their individuality that was denied to them earlier. The Indian women poets  are exploring the female consciousness and expressing their ideas confidently, counteracting male domination with the contention of their ability and uniqueness. They have thrived in achieving the sovereignty for themselves in innumerable spheres in the contemporary scenario.

 

 Prof.Nandini Sahu is a major voice in contemporary Indian English literature. She has accomplished her doctorate in English literature under the guidance of Late Prof. Niranjan Mohanty, Prof. of English, Visva Bharati, Santiniketan. She has been widely published in India, U.S.A, U.K., Africa and Pakistan.  Apart from numerous other literary awards, she is a triple gold medalist in English literature; she has received the Gold Medal from the hon’ble Vice-President of India for her contributions to English Studies in India in the year 2019.  She is the author / editor of eleven books titled ‘The Other Voice‘ (a poetry collection) , ‘Recollection as Redemption’, ‘Post-Modernist Delegation to English Language Teaching’, ‘The Silence’, (a poetry collection), ‘The Post Colonial Space: Writing the Self and the Nation’, “Silver Poems on My Lips” (a poetry collection), Folklore and the Alternative Modernities (Vol. 1 and Vol II), ‘Sukamaa and Other Poems’, ‘Suvarnarekha’ , and ‘Sita (A Poem)’ – all published from New Delhi. She is the Founder/Chief Editor of two bi-annual peer-reviewed journals in English, Interdisciplinary Journal of Literature and Language and Panorama Literaria.

 

Saanjukta Bandyopadhyay

Born in  Kolkata 1958, Sanjukta Bandyopadhyay’s first poetry collection  Abidya was published in 1985. She has published twelve collection so far and has been awarded many literary prices. She is one of the most important Bengali voices in feminist poetry.

Nata nel 1958 a Calcutta, Sanjukta Bandyopadhyay ha esordito negli anni ottanta con Abidya (1985). Finora è autrice di dodici libri di poesia. Ha ottenuto molti premi letterari ed è una delle più importanti voci della poesia femminista bengalese.

 

 

Not A Goddess

 

 

Non una dea

In the western corner of the field, the goddess Chandi stands with her right hand up in the air, and from her hand, as is torn off, drop shreds and scraps of straw, stoned flints, dead faces of children. These days nothing looks like home anymore, at times she wishes only to tie her loose hair up in a knot. An insignificant woman wipes her turmeric-stained hands on her shari end, and furtively gather a few hibiscus flower, forgetting about them later. After drinking the hibiscus-blossom colour of night in the middle of the wilderness, drunk and alone, the goddess stands at the head of that forgetful woman’s bed in the guise of sleep.

In the Western corner of the field not a goddess, but one insignificant woman arranges withered hibiscus and endless nothing-ness on her shari ends.

 

(tradnslation by Arlene R.K. Zide reviewed by the author)

Nell’angolo occidentale del campo, la dea Chandi* sta con la mano destra levata e dalla mano, mentre viene strappata, lascia cadere schegge e frammenti di paglia, pietre da lapidazione, volti morti di bambini. Di questi tempi niente sembra più casa, a volte desidera solo legarsi i capelli sciolti in un nodo. Una donna insignificante si asciuga le mani macchiate di curcuma con l’orlo del sari e raccoglie furtiva alcuni fiori di ibisco, per dimenticarli più tardi. Ha bevuto il colore bocciolo di ibisco della notte in mezzo al deserto. Ora, ubriaca e sola, la dea sta a capo del letto di quella donna immemore sotto le spoglie del sonno.

Nell’angolo occidentale del campo non una dea, ma una donna insignificante sistema ibisco appassito e infinito nulla sull’orlo del sari.

 

* Terribile divinità indu che incarna la potenza dell’ira.

 

 

But of A Fairy Tale

 

 

Ma di una fiaba

My city wakes up streaming through many a stream

Autumn-fall

 

At its head magic-hill black-coloured lengthy-sigh

Snake-totem

 

Today garden taps the door of the womb

Now is spring

 

Here hate tumbles on a long lane

Marble-play

 

When the eve descends on night-less glass-palace

Tired girls

 

Krittikas protect this mid-city reed-forest

Day of birth

 

(translated by the poet together with  Dipankar Sen Roy)

La mia città si sveglia fluendo in molti fiumi

Autunno

 

La guida il lungo sospiro della magica collina nera

Totem del serpente

 

Oggi il giardino bussa alla porta del grembo

È primavera adesso

 

Qui l’odio cade su un lungo sentiero

Gioco di biglie

 

Quando la sera scende sul palazzo di vetro senza notte

Ragazze stanche

 

Le Krittika* proteggono questo canneto in mezzo alla città

Giorno di nascita

 

* Nome sanscrito delle Pleiadi.

 

 

Birth

 

 

Nascita

I remember that cradle and on the mango leaf

A smiling face; that little baby with his baby-smell

 

I remember those futile tapping of saline

On the doors of the birth-passage

 

Till the scalpel takes over. On the palms cupped together

Blood of one mixing with the other

 

While firm, warm hands build hedges around the garden

Then splitting the earth, outcomes Kumarsambhabam

 

(translated by the poet together with Dipankar Sen Roy)

Ricordo la culla e sulla foglia di mango

un volto sorridente; un neonato con il suo profumo di neonato

 

Ricordo il vano bussare dell’acqua salata

alle porte del varco della nascita

 

Finché non subentra il bisturi. Nei palmi congiunti a coppa

un sangue si mescola all’altro

 

mentre mani tiepide e salde costruiscono siepi intorno al giardino

Poi, spaccando la terra, esce Kumarsambhabam*

 

* Letteralmente “Nascita del dio della guerra”, poema mitologico scritto da Mahakavi Kalidasa (IV-V sec. d.C.).

 

 

Translation by Maria Luisa Vezzali

 

***

 

Taniya Chakraborty

 

Born in 1990, Taniya Chakraborty is one of the most popular young poet. In spite of her young age, she has already published seven poetry collections.s

Nata nel 1990, Taniya Chakraborty è, tra le nuove leve, una delle autrici di maggiore successo. Nonostante la giovane età, ha già pubblicato sette raccolte di poesia.

 

Mystery Mistero
Eyes have come out breaking through stones

On putting off the specs hot smoke from soup comes out

Infinite over salted fluid near

I cannot explain the happiness of separation

See on your right the most astonishing science

Walks securely

Inside the throat negative smell wells up

I am flying in fear of smell. No nexus in the wings

Opposite love has made the lungs leftist

As everything is not beautiful I’ll give you blood

There is a way, caress the sentenced

Take up flesh on sharp incisors

Now love…

Love will teach you over salted mystery

 

(English translation by Debadrita Bose)

Sono usciti occhi dalle pietre spaccate

Appena tolti gli occhiali sale vapore caldo dalla zuppa

L’infinito sopra il vicino fluido salato

Non posso spiegare la felicità della separazione

Guarda, alla tua destra, la scienza più stupefacente

Cammina con sicurezza

Dentro la gola si accumula la negazione dell’odore

Volo nella paura dell’olfatto. L’assente collegamento fra le ali

Di fronte all’amore ha reso i polmoni di sinistra

Visto che non tutto è bello, ti darò il sangue

C’è una via, accarezza il condannato

Raccogli la carne sugli incisivi affilati

Ora ama…

Sarà l’amore a insegnarti al di sopra di quel mistero salato.

 

 

Act Recitare
I sleep when I’m idle not in darkness

Those who are sitting next to seaside

With their hungry eyes

And hidden expectations like them

I’m living in showing off that I’m asleep

Sky kept the mountain in dark

If you are honest

Other will be brutal to you

Actually the opposite touch

Brings the sleeping equality…

 

(English translation by Sayantan Chowdhury)

Dormo quando sono pigra e non al buio

Quelli che siedono vicino al mare

con i loro occhi affamati

e le aspettative nascoste come loro

Vivo mostrando di dormire

Il cielo ha mantenuto la montagna all’oscuro

Se sei onesto

gli altri saranno brutali con te

In realtà l’opposto toccare

porta con sé l’uguaglianza del sonno…

 

 

Pea seed Seme di pisello
This small family

Lonesome pea seed

Lying beside soft    torrents of water

Grant complete ecstasy divine being

They move gently upon the table

This small family

Elusive pea seed

A girl in a torn blouse

is scratching her belly –

 

(English translation by Inam Hussain Malik)

Questa minuscola famiglia

un solitario seme di pisello

riposa soave vicino        torrenti d’acqua

Concedi un’estasi completa, essere divino

Si muovono piano sul tavolo

Questa minuscola famiglia

un elusivo seme di pisello

una ragazza, con la camicetta sdrucita

si gratta il ventre –

 

 

Fate Sorte
Body that has desired body

When whole

Myriad giraffes tug at leaves

A reptile’s tail drops

The instant when sowing ends

Body is named soul

 

(English translation i Inam Husain Malik)

Il corpo che ha desiderato il corpo

quando nella sua interezza

una miriade di giraffe strappa le foglie

cade la coda di un rettile

L’attimo in cui la semina finisce

il corpo si chiama anima.

 

Translated by Jessy Simonini

 

***

Debarati Mitra

 

Debarati Mitra is a veteran of Bengali poetry. Born in 1946 in Kolkata, she was already active in the 1960’s , Her first collection Andhoschoole Ghanta Baje was published in in 1971. Up to now she has published twelve poetry collections and won many prestigious awards. Hers is a truly unique unique voice.

Debarati Mitra è una veterana della poesia bengalese. Nata nel 1946 a Calcutta, ha iniziato a muoversi nell’ambiente poetico durante gli anni Sessanta e il suo primo libro, Andhoschoole Ghanta Baje, è stato pubblicato nel 1971. Finora ha al suo attivo dodici raccolte di poesie. Ha ottenuto molti prestigiosi premi letterari. Dalla sua scrittura emerge una voce davvero unica.

 

In Paloma College Al college Paloma
No dust gathered this year in the summer vacation

on tables, chairs in closed rooms.

Prolonged leisure under lock and key was filled with sound of birds flying

Window sides  were filled with songs, blissful sums, cozy portrayals.

A conjurer with net for catching rabbits

whatever he catches becomes a face, only upto the shoulders,

nothing after that –

Yet I fear not, so beautiful!

 

In the light vibrating like carrot soup

listen in the depth of a teenage girl’s dance, listen to the mandolin,

from a resonating tree – green seeps into pond water

widened black like eyes of fish.

I don’t like to blow bubbles of letters anymore,

pages of books seem to be awakened cocoon

cutting the net flew away in the stream of air.

 

In summer vacation, in the closed rooms

not a tip of dust gathered this year.

 

(English translation from Bengali by Animikh Patra)

Non si è posata polvere quest’anno nelle vacanze estive

su tavoli e sedie dentro le stanze chiuse.

Il prolungato ozio sotto chiave si è riempito del suono di uccelli in volo

I lati delle finestre si sono riempiti di canzoni, somme incantevoli, ritratti rassicuranti.

Un mago con la rete per catturare conigli

tutto ciò che cattura diventa una faccia, solo fino alle spalle,

e poi niente –

Ma io non ho paura, è bellissimo!

 

Nella luce tremolante come zuppa di carote

ascolta in profondità la danza di un’adolescente, ascolta il mandolino

da un albero risonante – il verde filtra nell’acqua dello stagno

che si spalanca nera come occhi di pesce.

Non mi piace più soffiare bolle di lettere,

le pagine dei libri sembrano un bozzolo risvegliato

tagliando la rete sono volate via nella corrente d’aria.

 

Nelle vacanze estive, dentro le stanze chiuse

non si è posato un granello di polvere quest’anno.

 

 

In the drawing room In salotto
Our evening was a library.

Friends are born as books this time –

Aroma wafting through their bodies,

They are black birds against white clouds:

In the woods of Shami trees at night

fire walks stumbling.

 

My brother is a moth,

He wanted to get inside the books repeatedly,

Sisters were incense smoke

wrapped in the leaves.

And I am a glass almirah.

Shadow of southern hemisphere in the small room.

 

(English translation from Bengali by Animikh Patra)

La nostra serata è stata una biblioteca.

Gli amici sono nati libri questa volta –

Il profumo si diffonde attraverso i loro corpi,

sono uccelli neri contro nuvole bianche:

nei boschi di alberi Shami, la notte

il fuoco cammina inciampando.

 

Mio fratello è una falena,

voleva sempre entrare nei libri,

le sorelle erano fumo d’incenso

avvolto nelle foglie.

E io sono un almirah* di vetro.

Ombra dell’emisfero australe nella piccola stanza.

 

* Credenza o armadio indiano, spesso in legno lavorato.

 

 

 

Bath of a young man Il bagno di un giovane
Climbing down a disheveled flight of steps

the young man has come to bathe

orchestra plays in the hilly tunnels

from the tree’s uterine cone

colourful drops of fire splashed into the fountain

He rolls down trembling in the waves

suddenly getting off

a bright tight string

 

Comes flying water like a possessed virgin

and breaks him

and by breaking takes away

natural artistry of white marble

one of the sleeping thighs

in silent womb

dragged birthplace of distant hills

 

mingled that Sun’s sloth nostalgia

clouds of dense woods wrapped with leaves.

 

(English translation from Bengali by Animikh Patra)

Con una corsa spettinata per le scale

il giovane uomo è venuto a fare il bagno

l’orchestra suona nei tunnel collinari

dal cono uterino dell’albero

variopinte gocce di fuoco sono schizzate nella fontana

Lui rotola giù tremando tra le onde

scendendo all’improvviso

da una corda tesa e luccicante

 

Giunge un volo d’acqua come una vergine posseduta

e lo spezza

e spezzando porta via

la naturale artisticità del marmo bianco

una delle cosce addormentate

nel grembo silenzioso

ha trascinato la patria di lontane colline

 

vi ha unito quella pigra nostalgia del Sole

nubi di fitti boschi avvolti nelle foglie.

 

 

Gray flag 1 Bandiera grigia 1
There are your blue pants left in the bushes,

You are nowhere.

Are you ancient bird, the creator-male are you?

Did you use to fly in air with clothes on?

Nowadays I get so intoxicated that I remember nothing.

Only once you were in front of me just at noon time,

Green from the dense woods was on your eyes,

your age two-four minutes younger to me.

As soon as you called my name with a tune,

blown me two-five times with your wings,

struck on my lips with your beaks,

I readily fainted.

 

You have swallowed all colors

and wandering being the sky,

and I didn’t notice you.

 

What are those in the bushes?

Why so many blue feathers are there?

 

This is my life, misery of an ant.

 

(English translation from Bengali Animikh Patra)

Ci sono i tuoi pantaloni blu abbandonati tra i cespugli,

tu non sei da nessuna parte.

Sei un antico uccello, sei tu il maschio-creatore?

Volavi sempre con gli abiti indosso?

Di questi tempi mi ubriaco così tanto da non ricordare nulla.

Solo una volta mi sei stato di fronte a mezzogiorno in punto,

sugli occhi avevi il verde dei fitti boschi,

la tua età mi appariva di due-quattro minuti più giovane.

Appena hai chiamato il mio nome musicalmente,

e con le ali mi hai soffiato due-cinque volte,

mi hai colpito le labbra coi tuoi becchi,

sono svenuta prontamente.

 

Hai inghiottito tutti i colori,

il cielo stava girovagando

e non mi sono accorta di te.

 

Cosa sono quelle cose tra i cespugli?

Perché ci sono così tante piume blu?

 

Questa è la mia vita, miseria di formica.

 

Translation by Francesca Del Moro

 

***

 

 

 

Tags: consciousnessDebarati MitraEnglish translationIndian feminist poetryItalian translationNandini SahuSanjukta Bandyopadhyay'Sumana MitraTaniya ChakrabortyVoci della Luna
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