At A Coffee Shop In Buenos Aires, My Divorced Friend Shows Me A Picture Of Her Wedding By Elisa Díaz Castelo In Hindi/Urdu Translation Poem by Ravi Kopra

Buenos Aires ki coffee shop mai
meri divorced saheli apni shaadi ki
photos dikhlati hai

main su ko tab na jaanti thee
lakin photos main vo aap jaisi lagti thee
us aurat ki tarah nahin jo mere paas baithi thee.
hum ko dekho, vo muje kehti hai
us ka chera koi doosra tha, us k haath koi doosray thay
aur us ki aankhain barish aur raat ki bhookh se ab pathar jaisi theen,
tasveeroN main shaadi k waqy vo apne dulhay k saath naach rehi thee
aur ab hum dono bahar baithay guftgoo kar rahey thay.

-to be continued

***

AT A COFFEE SHOP IN BUENOS AIRES, MY DIVORCED FRIEND SHOWS ME A PICTURE OF HER WEDDING

I didn't know her then and yet,
in the picture, she's more like herself
than the woman sitting here beside me.
Look at us, she tells me, with this other
face of hers, these other hands. And her eyes:
asphalt after rain and midnight hunger.
In the picture, the newlyweds dance
and outside we are alone, she and I, talking.

The sadness of others is an unknown city,
we have no idea where its streets might take us,
torn down houses, glass buildings, facades
and crumbling ceilings and corridors
of curved, of creaking, wood. We can imagine
so little. The trivial illusion
of having spent our lives there and knowing by heart
the tumult of main street, the bus routes,
each subway stop, will stand but a few instants.
For it is almost impossible to imagine
habit. The saddest memory
is only a station where thought pauses,
an unsurprised glance at the ruined theatre,
all seen so many times, all
just routine. Slowly, even the greatest
sorrow loses sharpness
and pain is changed into a thing
of rounder edges.

At the table before us,
an old couple eats without speaking.
It is silence. It is the ancient ritual
that summons them to die by parts
and face to face. Perhaps one day
you'll wake and have forgotten
the bare-footed steps of your lover
on the wooden floor of your first home.
Now night falls,
the city closes in around our words.
The old couple stands to leave, the place empties.
In the background I hear a tango and can't remember
its name. I suddenly feel this afternoon too
is very distant, that we are, ourselves,
so far away from Buenos Aires.

-Elisa Díaz Castelo
Translation from Spanish by Elisa Díaz Castelo