Asleep In The Valley in Urdu/Hindi
Table of Contents
About The Author
Jean Nicolas Arthur Rimband (1854-1891) was a French poem from the nineteenth century. He started writing poetry even before he reached his teens. He stopped writing poetry at the age of nineteen. His major works include To Music, Evening prayer. The present poem, originally titled Le Dormeur le Val, was included in his collection of poetry called, Poesis (1872).
Jean Nicolas Arthur Rimbaud (1854-1891) ek French shayar the jo unneesvin sadi mein jeete the. Unhone apni shayari likhna shuru kiya jab woh abhi apne bachpan mein hi the. Unhone unnees saal ki umar mein shayari likhna band kar diya. Unke kuch mashhoor kaam hain “To Music” aur “Evening Prayer.” Yeh nazm, jo pehle “Le Dormeur le Val” ke naam se jani jati thi, unki kavitaon ke majmooe “Poesis” (1872) mein shamil thi.
About The Text
This poem is written in the model of the Italian sonnet that has fourteen lines divided as octave and sestet. The poet explores the inherent futility of war. This theme is expressed in the contrasting images of a bountiful nature as background and the tragic death of a young soldier in the midst of nature’s splendour.
Yeh nazm Italian sonnet ke model mein likhi gayi hai jismein chaudah lines hoti hain jo octave aur sestet mein taqseem hoti hain. Shayar jung ki bekaripan ko dekhta hai. Yeh theme ek zinda natural scenery ke peshe manzar aur ek jawan sipahi ki shandar fitrat ke darmiyan maut ke mutazad tasveerat mein izhar hoti hai.
Asleep In The Valley in Urdu/Hindi
A small green valley where a slow stream flows
Ek choti hari wadi jahan ek dheema dhara behta hai
And leaves long strands of silver on the bright
Aur chamakti hui ghaas par lambi chandi jaisi lakeerain chorh jata hai;
Grass; from the mountaintop stream the Sun’s
Pahaadi ki choti se suraj ki kiranain behti hain;
Rays; they fill the hollow full of light.
Woh roshni se bhari hui wadi ko roshan kar deti hain.
A soldier, very young, lies open-mouthed,
Ek sipahi, bohot jawan, khula munh leeta hua hai,
A pillow made of fern beneath his head,
Uska sir fern ke patton ke takiye par araam kar raha hai,
Asleep; stretched in the heavy undergrowth,
Soya hua; ghane paudon mein phela hua,
Pale in his warm, green, sun-soaked bed.
Apne garm, hari, dhoop se bhari bistar mein be rang.
His feet among the flowers, he sleeps. His smile
Uske paon phoolon ke darmiyan hain, woh sota hai. Uski muskurahat
Is like an infant’s – gentle, without guile.
Ek bachay jaisi – narm, baghair chalakiyan.
Ah, Nature, keep him warm; he may catch cold.
Ah, Qudrat, usay garam rakho; woh thanda ho sakta hai.
The humming insects don’t disturb his rest;
Makkhiyan uski neend ko pareshan nahi karti;
He sleeps in sunlight, one hand on his breast;
Woh dhoop mein so raha hai, aik haath apne seene par rakha;
At peace. In his side there are two red holes.
Sukoon mein. Uske pehlu mein do laal sorakh hain.
