Mambhazham
Dear reader,
I would like to attempt a translation of the poem 'Mambazham' that translates to 'Mango' written Vailoppilli Sreedharan Menon in the year 1936 first published in Mathrubhumi's Onam Edition newspaper. The poet considers the loss of his brother, four years prior as the primary inspiration for this poem.
As for me I first read this poem in from my Malayalam textbook back in school. Reading it again today for some reason it made me love the poem even more. However I realised that there isn't a translated version of the poem on the internet. I would like to share this poem to you, dear reader.
I do apologise in advance as my words would never do justice to the great depth and tone to the original language and context to which the poem has written. I shall try my best to recreate the emotions of this poem while trying to stay true to the material.
I would like to attempt a translation of the poem 'Mambazham' that translates to 'Mango' written Vailoppilli Sreedharan Menon in the year 1936 first published in Mathrubhumi's Onam Edition newspaper. The poet considers the loss of his brother, four years prior as the primary inspiration for this poem.
As for me I first read this poem in from my Malayalam textbook back in school. Reading it again today for some reason it made me love the poem even more. However I realised that there isn't a translated version of the poem on the internet. I would like to share this poem to you, dear reader.
I do apologise in advance as my words would never do justice to the great depth and tone to the original language and context to which the poem has written. I shall try my best to recreate the emotions of this poem while trying to stay true to the material.
Mango
As the first mango fell from the tree in the courtyard,
Warm tears rolled down from the mother's eyes.
Four months ago after a long wait,
The young Mango tree had blossomed it's buds.
Mother's dear son seeing in it a sparkler firecracker,
Broke a flower bunch and came to his mother in great delight.
Turning red, mother said, you broke
The branch with flowers, naughty kid!
Isn't the kid who should pick ripe mangoes
Now destroying flower buds because he is not spanked enough?
The baby's face changed, his joyous smile now drooping
His sad eyes became rivers of tears
The nectar filled buds were thrown down on the dry earth
Dear kids who barely know how to connect words,
Aren't you seers of heaven sent by god?
Before the fragrant little emeralds of the mango tree
Turn into gold in the hottest April
Without waiting for the first mango to fall, mother's
Little cuckoo left it's nest to the world beyond.
As the darling of the angels, as the messenger from the world,
He lived on as the ever joyful child.
The neighboring kids are the most excited,
As they make playhouses in the shade of their mango trees.
They sing to the bushy haired squirrel ,
To give them mangoes, with watery mouths.
For them it was the great festival of spring,
For her oh! It was the monsoon of blinding tears.
Standing there thinking of her lost past,
Like the fruit of a tragedy she picked up the mango.
On the earth where her dear son's delicate body lay,
She put down the fruit and slowly said,
"For my little baby's hand to pick up, for my little baby's mouth to eat
Came this mango. Without knowing the reason
You used to be upset with me, but when I called you back to eat
Didn't you come come back to me whining for food?
Come my dear son who I cannot see with my eyes
Please accept the nectar as this mother's offering to you"
As a gentle breeze rested by her
The little soul of the child embraced his mother.
As the first mango fell from the tree in the courtyard,
Warm tears rolled down from the mother's eyes.
Four months ago after a long wait,
The young Mango tree had blossomed it's buds.
Mother's dear son seeing in it a sparkler firecracker,
Broke a flower bunch and came to his mother in great delight.
Turning red, mother said, you broke
The branch with flowers, naughty kid!
Isn't the kid who should pick ripe mangoes
Now destroying flower buds because he is not spanked enough?
The baby's face changed, his joyous smile now drooping
His sad eyes became rivers of tears
The nectar filled buds were thrown down on the dry earth
Dear kids who barely know how to connect words,
Aren't you seers of heaven sent by god?
Before the fragrant little emeralds of the mango tree
Turn into gold in the hottest April
Without waiting for the first mango to fall, mother's
Little cuckoo left it's nest to the world beyond.
As the darling of the angels, as the messenger from the world,
He lived on as the ever joyful child.
The neighboring kids are the most excited,
As they make playhouses in the shade of their mango trees.
They sing to the bushy haired squirrel ,
To give them mangoes, with watery mouths.
For them it was the great festival of spring,
For her oh! It was the monsoon of blinding tears.
Standing there thinking of her lost past,
Like the fruit of a tragedy she picked up the mango.
On the earth where her dear son's delicate body lay,
She put down the fruit and slowly said,
"For my little baby's hand to pick up, for my little baby's mouth to eat
Came this mango. Without knowing the reason
You used to be upset with me, but when I called you back to eat
Didn't you come come back to me whining for food?
Come my dear son who I cannot see with my eyes
Please accept the nectar as this mother's offering to you"
As a gentle breeze rested by her
The little soul of the child embraced his mother.
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