dil ki uljhan
swaal poochti rehti hai.
aur fir ruk jaati hai,
jwaab dene lagti hai
usi hi vaani k swar main.
koi bhi nahin keh sakta
kya fark hai un main.
na-khushgwaar, ye baat cheet shuroo hoti hai
aur fir unjaanay, chaitna ko bhi shamil kar leti hai.
aur fir, koi choice nahin reh jaata
aur fir, har cheez bina matlab k ho jaati hai;
jab tak hum jaantay nahin
uljhan kis baat ki hai
aur is k saaray matlab ek hi hain.
***
Conversation by Elizabeth Bishop
The tumult in the heart
keeps asking questions.
And then it stops and undertakes to answer
in the same tone of voice.
No one could tell the difference.
Uninnocent, these conversations start,
and then engage the senses,
only half—meaning to.
And then there is no choice,
and then there is no sense;
until a name
and all its connotation are the same.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem