Us ki mohabbat mohabbat na thee
jis k guptaang main ne cHooay thay
apni unglioN se, apne ghabraatay hontoN se.
jis ne muje apni unglioN se cHooa tha
apne jaltay hontoN se muj pe zakhm bikharay thay
kal us k moonh se dukhi lafz niklay
us ki awaaz main surangi tumb na thee
laga hamara prem-alinghan sub drama tha
aur hamari jeebaiN bosay maartay
kabhi na juD kar mili theeN
aur aisay bhi laga k jab hum shaam ko
dukh bhray chup chaap rehtay thay
kabhi hum ne pyaar na kiya tha
hamari ungliaN, hamaray dil, hamaray hoNt
goya mulayum ghost k tukDay thay
aur hum saada sa drama karnay main
fir ek baar lagay huay thay.
***
Violeta Savu:
He didn't love me
the man whose sex I touched
with my fingers with my fretting lips
who touched me with his fingers
with wounds dropped by burnt lips
yesterday he uttered painful words. His voice
lacked the old syrinx timbre.
as if all our embraces had been acted
and our tongues had never twined
in the syncrisis of the kiss
and as if in the saddest evenings and silences we hadn't caressed each other
with our fingers, with our hearts, with our lips stuck in our cotton
chunks of meat. As if we had performed
a banal act for one last time.
- translated from the Romanian by Elena Ciobanu
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem