Those Winter Sundays By Robert Hayden In Hindi/Urdu Translation Poem by Ravi Kopra

Vo JaDay K Itvaar K Din

Itvaar k din bhi mera baapu
subah subah so kar uth baitha tha
aur kaanpti thund main
kapDay pehn leta tha.
Fir apnay fattay hathoN se
jo haftay bhar katdhin kaam se
sardi k mausam main peeDat hua kartay thay,
lakDi ekhathi kar k
sholay deti aag jalaaya karta tha.
Kisi ne bhi kabhi usko danyawaad nahin diya tha.

Main aag ki kirch kirch awaaz sun
so kar uth jaya karta tha.
Jab kamray garm ho jaya kartay thay
vo humain bulayaa karta tha.
Aalsi main uth kar
main kapDay pehn leta tha,
dara rehta tha main hamesha
us gussay bharay ghar main.

Vo jaaDay ko ghar se bahar nikalata tha
aur mere jootoN ki polish bhi karta tha
lakin main la-parvaahi se us ko bolta tha.
Kya samaj thee muje tab, kya samaj thee muje tab
pyaar k katdhin, sun-saan raastoN ki?

^

Those Winter Sundays
BY ROBERT HAYDEN

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who'd driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?