Thank you for posting such a beautiful poem by Gulzar. I agree, translating Gulzars poem is a mission impossible. Having said that, I would like to take a stab at it . Here’s my attempt and before I forget, I would like to thank a friend (you know who you are) for the finishing touch.

It was season’s
sudden gust of wind
that skewed the portrait
hung on this wall

In monsoons prior
these walls were not so damp
Wonder why this time
humidity crept in,
cracks developed,
and dampness seeped through
Dewy tears gliding over dry cheeks

The rains used to sing
on this very rooftop
And write sweet nothings
with its fingertips
on window panes of this house.

Now lamenting behind unlit lanterns
afternoons feel like an empty chess set
without pieces
There are no players for a match
and no moves to be made
Neither the day dawns nor the night falls
Everything is at a standstill.

Oh what a gust of wind it was
that skewed the portrait
hung on this wall.

Was it a puff of the season
That shook the portrait hanging listlessly
Last season the walls weren’t so moist
Who knows why it crept in now
Don’t know why the cracks came
And the damp shows
Like the tears on a face so blank

This rain once sang on the rooftops
It used to write on the windowpanes

Alas it weeps away behind a cage now
And the afternoons are so
Like a chess without the pieces
There’s no one to play, no bets laid
Neither the day breaks, nor night comes
Everything seems still

Perhaps ’twas a puff of the season
That shook the portrait on this wall.

paromita