This was written as a nātya-gītā (dramatic-song), and was to be sung (to the background of single-stringed lute, an ēkatāri) by a wandering ascetic when he came upon Basavaṇṇa’s samādhi. While its inherent musicality makes it almost impossible to translate, I have tried to approximate some of the rhythm and the rhymes of the original. However, the refrain of the original is: thum thum thumthum thumthum thumthum thumbi bandhitta thangi thumbi bandhittu. The same word thumbi is used in a different sense in each refrain, a conceit impossible to translate.
(Note: Basavaṇṇa was a 12th century “social-reformer” who was the doyen of the vacana-sāhitya movement in Kannada. Vacanas are free verse pieces in simple Kannada, and extol Shiva. Allama Prabhu and Akka Mahādēvi were two other famous vacanakāras. Basavaṇṇa was eventually killed by people who opposed his “radical” ideas. This poem metaphorically relates the story of his life, the krānti (revolution) he inspired and his death.)
As usual, here is a recording of my reciting (singing) the original Kannada poem.
Basavaṇṇa’s Chronicles (ತುಂಬಿ ಬಂದಿತ್ತು)
It was more bright than light
and slighter too than air;
it sprang like Gangé did
from the locks of Hara’s hair.
It róse in every nook and
còrner of the body’s frame;
it joined head and toe and centre
and flooded them each the same,
sister, a-full-filled had it come.
A-full a-full a-full a-full,
a-full-filled had it come, sister,
a-full-filled it had come.
It had the fragrance of the flower
and the sweetness of the song;
like words of déep affection,
onto the heart it sprang.
It honed in on the secret
like the wisdom of the wise;
the lotus to this light unfurled;
once móre did the honey rise,
sister, a-buzzing came the bee.
A-buzz a-buzz a-buzz a-buzz,
a-buzzing came the bee, sister,
a-buzzing came the bee.
It was so dark as time,
it was so pale as death,
it pounced like a hawk upon
a snake upon the heath.
It was as though the light of day
had melted in the night;
it was as though fixation’s vessel
was full up to its height;
now, it’d spilt all its contents,
sister, the end had come at last.
The end, the end, the end, the end,
the end had come at last, sister,
the end had come at last.
Here is my recitation of the translation.
(Translated by Madhav Ajjampur)
Poem Details: From the collection “ಸಖೀಗೀತ,” first published in 1937.
Also, here is a video recording of my singing the original Kannada poem and reciting the translation.
And here is a more recent video presentation (from 2020) of the poem and its translation. My own commentary within has happened in both English and Kannada.
As usual, I would like to thank Sunaath Kaaka for his astonishingly detailed Kannada explication of this poem. While it is impossible for a translation or transcreation to capture all the nuances of the poem like this, the detail in Kaaka’s explication was directly responsible for my being able to translate several lines in the poem that I had not been able to fully understand.
With Kaaka’s permission, I would like to present his opinion on the English transcreation I made.
“ನಿಮ್ಮ ಈ ಅನುವಾದವು ಅತ್ಯುತ್ತಮವಾಗಿದೆ. ಯಾವ ಪದವನ್ನೂ ಬದಲಾಯಿಸುವ ಅವಶ್ಯಕತೆ ನನಗೆ ಕಂಡು ಬರಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಪ್ರತಿಯೊಂದು ನುಡಿಯ ಕೊನೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ನೀವು ‘ತುಂಬಿ ಬಂದಿತ್ತು’ ಎನ್ನುವುದಕ್ಕೆ, ಬೇರೆ ಬೇರೆ ಪದಗಳನ್ನು (—A full, A-buzz, The end–) ಬಳಸಿರುವುದು ಪ್ರಶಂಸನೀಯವಾಗಿದೆ.”
(“This translation of yours is excellent. [As I read it]. I did not think a single word of it needed to be changed. The way you’ve used different phrases (–A full, A-buzz, The end–) to translate the ‘ತುಂಬಿ ಬಂದಿತ್ತು (tumbi bandittu)’ that comes at the end of each stanza is deserving of praise.”)
© Madhav Ajjampur