贾尼尔·辛格·阿南德诗5首

Poetics Multilingual Mag

贾尼尔·辛格·阿南德博士著述颇丰，共出版190部作品，荣获塞内卡奖、摩拉瓦宪章奖、弗朗茨·卡夫卡奖和马克西姆·高尔基奖。塞尔维亚的诗人岩上镌刻着他的名字。阿南德是一位文学巨匠，他的作品完美融合了创造力、智慧和道德视野。他不仅是一位印度作家，更是一位具有全球影响力的作家，他挑战读者直面存在的复杂性，并通过艺术和伦理传递希望。

Dr Jernail Singh Anand, with an opus of 190 books, is Laureate of the Seneca, Charter of Morava, Franz Kafka and Maxim Gorky awards. His name adorns the Poets’ Rock in Serbia. Anand is a towering literary figure whose work embodies a rare fusion of creativity, intellect, and moral vision. He’s not just an Indian author but a global voice, challenging readers to confront the complexities of existence while offering hope through art and ethics.



洞见

人被困于自我之中
自我（我……我）
当这陷阱破除
那就是你……你

极少有人
能超越这极致
当自我（我）与你消弭
那就是祂……祂……祂

实际上祂本就存在
在自我（我）与你之前
祂亦将永存
当我与你烟消云散

你就是佛陀
如果你能洞见
自身的表象
或你眼中所见的表象


LOOKING THROUGH

Man is trapped in his self
Main main. (I ..I)
When this trap breaks
It is You .. you.

There are very few
Who go beyond this extremity
When main (I) and you cease
It is He He He ..

Actually it is He who existed
Before Main (I) and You
And He will stay
When I and You are blown away

You are the Buddha
If you can see through
Your own face
Or in the face of you. 坟墓的彼端

逝者离去后
归于无名
肉身消逝
便被彻底遗忘。

灵魂穿越了
生命阶梯的喧嚣
褪去所有欲念
甚至记忆

每一个清晨
每一个黄昏
一个守卫前来
通报有客到访

我从未想过
要他们这样记着我
这只会将我拽回尘世
徒增伤痛

你正把我
从漂泊中拉回
难道你不愿
让我安息吗？

有生之时我已尝遍
这份爱的百般滋味
它终究无法跨越
坟墓的彼端。



ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE GRAVE

Those who are dead pass
Into anonymity
After the body has gone
Into oblivion.

A soul which has passed beyond
The busy ghats of life
Loses all appetites
Even memories

Every time in the morning
And in the evening
A sentry comes
And announces a visitor

I never wanted them
To remember me like this
It pulls me back
Only to inflict pain.

You are dragging me back
From my flight
Don't you want
That I rest in peace?

When alive I had a mixed taste
Of this love
Which does not go beyond
The other side of the grave. 空谈的文字匠

诸神未曾听闻我的功绩。
于是我递上U盘，
里面条理分明地记录着：
哪一年，我获得了
哪一纸文凭。

既然我是一名诗人，
我向他们展示：
我如何宣传我自己的著作，
卖出了多少册，
如何因畅销
而变得富有，
又如何在书展上为读者签名。

我可否读一两首诗？
每当看到有人聚集，
他们或许愿听我高谈阔论，
我便按捺不住
瞧啊，他们果真侧耳倾听，
我朗诵出最得意的诗作，
写的是边缘女性的处境

她们必须奋起反抗压迫，
与大男子主义抗争。
我曾撰文抨击腐败，
我曾斥责舞弊者
囤积居奇者与敛财之辈，
甚至直言批判
纵容罪恶的社会风气。

我的陈述结束了，
见他们脸上露出满意之色，
我暗自得意：
将自己为社会做的一切，
编织成这般光鲜的图景，我真是聪明。
可随即，异样的感觉袭来。
一位天使出现，揪住我的衣领，
将我拽起身。

哪里不对劲？我满心困惑：
我究竟错在何处？
为何要这般怠慢我？
我可是世界级诗人，伟大的改革者啊。
本期待着厚待，
却被带到了上帝面前。
炼狱，待定。
五年后再审。

我问天使发生了什么。
为何不是天堂？
天使看了看我，
把U盘递回给我：
“先生，这些不过是空谈。
我们信奉的是行动。
你有任何实际行动
可以展示吗？
否则，一切不过是白费口舌。”

THE UNDOING WORDSTER

Gods were unaware of my exploits.
So I offered the pendrive
Which showed
Most methodically
In which year
I was awarded which diploma

Since I was a Poet,
I showed them
How I advertised my books
How many copies were sold
How rich I was
Because of my best sellers
And how I signed my books at book fairs

May I read a poem or two?
I cannot resist myself when I see
A few people gathered
Who could be pontificated
And lo, they lent me ears
And I recited my best poems
Which showcased the condition
Of women who are marginalised

They must rise up against the oppression
And fight male chauvinism
I had written against corruption
I had chided malpractitioners
Hoarders and money makers
Even I had spoken against
Social ethos which supported crime

My presentation was over
I saw a feel of satisfaction over the faces.
I felt how smart of me
To make a beautiful film of all
That I had done for this society.
Then I felt something happened to me.
An angel came, caught me by my collar
And made me stand up.

Something amiss. I was wondering
What was wrong
Why I was treated so shabbily
A world poet. A great reformer I was.
Expecting great treatment
I was produced before God.
Purgatory. Overlap.
Next date after five years.

I asked an angel what had happened.
Why not Heaven ?
The angel looked at me
And returned my pendrive
It is all tall talk gentleman.
We believe in action.
Have you anything to show
By way of action?
Otherwise it is only waste of breath.

生而为人

我悄悄望见
我的小女儿
依偎着祖母
遮着头
祈祷。

当看到我的儿子
将谷物投喂给
几只鸽子时
我再度
安然入眠

愿每个活着的人
至少拥有一个
永远爱着
他的
人

我们对他人的爱
让生活变得美好
这份爱
让我们
成其为人


Being Human

I saw on the sly
My little daughter was
With her granny
Heads covered
Praying.

I had a restful sleep again
When I saw my son
Feeding grain
To a few
Pigeons

Let everyone who is living
Have atleast one
Person who
Loves him
Always

Life is made beautiful
By the love that we
Have for others
It makes us
Human 英雄的塑造

最终重要的是影响力。
若是英雄被塑造出来，
他的世界也会被精心雕琢
而我们生活的这个世界，
这个迫使我们做出抉择的世界，
并非电影与戏剧里
那种在摄影棚中搭建的“虚构”世界。
这是充满真实挑战的现实世界：
若有疾病降临，
医生是真实的，医院亦是真实的；
若有死亡发生，输家是真实的，
或许是我，或许是你。

虚幻催生出虚幻的英雄，
他们主宰着
现实之人的想象。
事实与虚构合谋，
将普通人塑造成英雄
他们在镜前花费数小时化妆，
用替身出演
危险场景。
但现实生活中这绝无可能，
这便是我们的虚幻世界：
充斥着可疑之人，与可疑的英雄主义。

生活是事实与虚构碰撞的地方，
二者并肩碎裂。
那些活在人造灯光
阴影下的人，
手握连喷嚏
都规定好的剧本；
他们的神情、样貌、动作，
皆被细致掌控，
只为营造出一种印象
英雄与反派便从中应运而生。

生活不会强加这般规训：
你无需熟记剧本，
你可以即兴发挥，
依照你与生俱来的
本性行事；
你按血脉的指引行动，
说出口的是灵魂的声音。
在这里，鲜血是真的鲜血，
危险是真的危险，死亡是真的死亡，
失去也是真的失去；
在这里，你的所言
和所闻，皆是真实。

英雄是被虚构出来的，
虚假的英雄主义
在摄影棚里被构建：
反派是虚幻的，情境是虚幻的，
一切不过是化妆的游戏。
我们能否将整个人生
都置于摄影棚中？
如果鲜血不再是鲜血，
血腥不再是血腥，反派不再是反派，
英雄也不再是英雄——那倒也不错。

MAKING OF THE HERO

The impact is what finally matters.
If the hero is created,
His world is also carefully crafted
The world in which we live
And are made to take decisions
Is not that 'made up' world
Of films and drama, shot in studios.
It is the real world with real challenges
If there is a disease,
The doctors are real, and hospitals too.
If there is death, the loser is real,
Me or you.

Unreality creates unreal heroes
Who rule the imagination
Of real men
Fact and fiction collude
To make heroes out of ordinary men
Who make up for hours before the mirror
And use doubles to enact
Dangerous scenes.
Not possible in real life
This is our unreal world of
Dubious men, and dubious heroism.

Life is where fact and fiction collide
And fall apart side by side
Those who live in the shadows
Of artificial lights
Have a script which prescribes
Even a sneeze
Their looks, and look, and moves
All minutely controlled
To create an impression
Out of which heroes and villains spring

Life does not impose such discipline
You need not remember a script
You can extemporise
And act as per your
Inborn character
You act as your blood dictates
And you say what your plasma says
It is here where the blood is blood
And danger real, death is real
And loss is real,
Here what you speak
And what you listen is real

Heroes are made up,
Spurious heroism is constructed
In film studios
Villains unreal, situations unreal,
It is all a game of make up
Can we have an entire life
In a film studio?
That would be great if blood is not blood
Gore is not gore. Villain is not villain
And hero too us no hero.