Love, I'm Done With You (Meshooka, Teri Chutti Main Ab Kar Raha Hoon) , An Anti-Love Poem By Ross Gay In Hindi/Urdu Translation Poem by Ravi Kopra

Kya tum kabhi so kar uthay ho
aur dekha hai apna footi-pajama
apni gardan par fansi k fanday ki tarah?
Lagi hain tum ko kabhi ultiaaN
ghar k khaanay k baad?
ya pairoN k neechay nikalta khoon
kabhi bund nahin hua? Mehbooba, aisay bhi hua karta tha
jab do-teen din tum toothbrush na kiya karti the
aaaur fir bhi main apna saaaf chera teri gardan pe lagaya rakhta tha.
Hamesha main teri har baat pe juDa rehta tha, (Koi gaaana gaao, tum kaha karti the aur main ek parinda bun jaata tha.
Azaadi ho! tum kehti the aur muje kabhi samaj na aati the tum kya kehti ho, lakin tumari awaaz achhi lagti the kyon k vo en purani ghanti jaisi sureeli hua karti the.)Ye sub hua karta tha.

Prantu main ab tum ko kehta hoon: tere moonh se badboo aati hai
aur tere andar sub tutti hi tutti bhari hue hai.
Apne dewanoN ko gupt rakhane main tere jhooth main koi kami nahin hai. Haar jaanay waloN ka saath rakhti ho. BaDi chalaaik bani firti ho. Dhokha baazi karti ho.

Mehshooka,

-to be continued

***

Love, I'm Done with You
BY ROSS GAY
You ever wake up with your footie PJs warming
your neck like a noose? Ever upchuck
after a home-cooked meal? Or notice
how the blood on the bottoms of your feet
just won't seem to go away? Love, it used to be
you could retire your toothbrush for like two or three days and still
I'd push my downy face into your neck. Used to be
I hung on your every word. (Sing! you'd say: and I was a bird.
Freedom! you'd say: and I never really knew what that meant,
but liked the way it rang like a rusty bell.)Used to be. But now
I can tell you your breath stinks and you're full of shit.
You have more lies about yourself than bodies
beneath your bed. Rooting
for the underdog. Team player. Hook,
line and sinker. Love, you helped design the brick
that built the walls around the castle
in the basement of which is a vault
inside of which is another vault
inside of which... you get my point. Your tongue
is made of honey but flicks like a snake's. Voice
like a bird but everyone's ears are bleeding.
From the inside your house shines
and shines, but from outside you can see
it's built from bones. From out here it looks
like a graveyard, and the garden's
all ash. And besides,
your breath stinks. We're through.


You ever wake up with your footie PJs warming
your neck like a noose? Ever upchuck
after a home-cooked meal? Or notice
how the blood on the bottoms of your feet
just won't seem to go away? Love, it used to be
you could retire your toothbrush for like two or three days and still
I'd push my downy face into your neck. Used to be
I hung on your every word. (Sing! you'd say: and I was a bird.
Freedom! you'd say: and I never really knew what that meant,
but liked the way it rang like a rusty bell.)Used to be. But now
I can tell you your breath stinks and you're full of shit.
You have more lies about yourself than bodies
beneath your bed. Rooting
for the underdog. Team player. Hook,
line and sinker. Love, you helped design the brick
that built the walls around the castle
in the basement of which is a vault
inside of which is another vault
inside of which... you get my point. Your tongue
is made of honey but flicks like a snake's. Voice
like a bird but everyone's ears are bleeding.
From the inside your house shines
and shines, but from outside you can see
it's built from bones. From out here it looks
like a graveyard, and the garden's
all ash. And besides,
your breath stinks. We're through.