Jᴏʜɴ Kᴇᴀᴛs﹣ᴀ Oᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀ Nɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢᴀʟᴇ

 

(Keats-a Nightingale – hla hril ropui chu!)

 

Tʜᴜʜᴍᴀʜʀᴜᴀɪ ﹕Sapho Fam Lalzova, he khawvelah kum 26 chauh a lei kum chhiar hman, a hun laia natna tihdam theih loh TB vanga boral John Keats-a kha, a thlan lunga thu ziak mawi leh ril tak, ‘Here lies one whose name was writ in water’ tih inziak vang hian, Nuntawia hringnun hi ka la chhui ve ang, ka tih phah ţhin! Sapho Poetry chhuantawlawl, Lyrical Poem hmanga Keats-a’n a nun chhûngril, Nightingale sava hnena a phawrh chhuahna hla hian, thu tam tak min lo sawi khalh tawh ţhin.

 

Oᴅᴇ Sᴀᴡɪʜᴀᴡɴɴᴀ : Ode chi thum zinga pakhat; Rome hla hril phuahtu hming chawia an sak tak, Horatian Ode chawi lârtu ropui ber Keats-a Ode to a Nightingale hi hringnuna tawrhna nasa tak, lungngaihna leh hlimna inlaichin dan puan chhuahna hla a ni a. Chu bakah, hmuh theih khawvel leh ngaihruat khawvel thiam taka khaikhinna hla a ni bawk. Keats-a khan an chhûngkaw hri hlauhawm inrochun TB vangin harsatna tam tak, a dam chhûng tawitêah khan a hmachhawn a.

 

            Tisa lama a bäwrh tawh nak alaiin, sum leh pai lama a la pachhiat zui piahah, a hla hril phuah vanga mite hmuhsit leh endawng a la hlawh zui leh zel kha a ni a! The Quarterly Review kaltlanga a kut chhuak an fakselnate chu, Pu James Dokhuma ang maiin a tuar thiam lo a. A thih tawh hnuah leh zel pawh, a dam laia a inhmel huatpui Byron-a pèk khan Keats-a ropuina a hriat chhuah hma siin a la deusawh zui tak deuh deuh a nih kha!

 

            A Epic Poem ‘Don Juan’ kaltlangin, ‘John Keats, who was killed off by one critique, Just as he really promised something great…’ a lo tih hmanhmawh kha! Chutiang hringnun hahthlak nei chung si a, ‘A thing of beauty is a joy forever’a la tithei tlatte khan alawm, a zûna mi tam tak a lo uaitir theih tlat ni. A khawvel hnawkhnâi tak ni si a, ‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know’ a la tithei leh zelte khan mi tam tak lûng a rûn chiang a ni!

 

Hʟᴀ ʜʀɪʟ ᴀᴡᴍᴢᴇ ᴛʟᴀɴɢᴘᴜɪ ﹕ Tichuan, he a Ode ropui tak, châng 8 lai, hla tlar 80 zeta sei hi i han bih dawn teh ang. Khawvela mi nuamsa  ber ni kumkhua tawh tur, a mit it zawng apiang hlah lo thei khawpa mi ropui, lal Solomon-a meuh pawh a nuna a lungawi lohna vanga a phun chhuahna khawvelah, Keats-a pawhin a hringnun thurûk ril ber berte chu, a mihringpuite hnenah thlen ngam lovin sava tê pakhat hnenah a sawi chhuak ve ta a.

           

            Pindaric Ode-te anga a hla châng ţhen danin thupui hran a nei ve lo bawk a, hlimsâng nu ang maiin sava hnenah Keats-a hi a inbun ruak ta a ni.

 

            Châng (Stanza) tinah hriat thiam loh lai kan nei a nih chuan, inzawt ta mai ila. Châng I-naah hian zan tlai nêm tawh taka zanva lo hram ri avanga, Keats-a nuna phûrna leh thahthona mak tak lo thleng chawpchilh ve nghal dan kan hmu a. Châng II leh III-naah chu zanva khawvela va intah luh ve a, lungkham buai leh harsatna bikbosan daih a duh thu leh, chutiang tak a lo nih theih nâna mang rama cheng tura hrai ruih a ngenna, chiang lo ruaia chu zanva khawvela va inhnimphum a duhna thuin a chhun zawm ta a ni.

 

            Châng IV-naah Keats-a suangtuahna khawvelah hruai luhin kan awm ta a. Mahse, mihring suangtuahna chu chhum rei lo tê lo langa ral leh mai ţhin ang a nihzia, kan Pathian thu nemnghehna kan hmu zui zat a nih hi. Mi hian nun hi han chhui han chhui ţhin mah se, a tawpah chuan Baibul thu dikna bak hmuh chhuah belh tur reng reng an nei lo tih, i lo chhiar chhuak thiam ve tawh ngai reng em?

 

            Châng V-naah hian Keats-a chu a suangtuahna duhawm tak takte chuan, he khawvel hreawmna ata an lo la tal chhuahtir awkawng lo tih min hrilh chungin, khuavel (Nature) nena hun hman nuam a tihzia thu erawh kan hmuhmaih hauh lo. Châng VI-naah chu hmuna hun rei lo tê pawh hlim tak leh enghlelh nei miah lova, a taksa leh rilru natna zawng zawng laka chhawk zangkahia a awm zawkna chu a thlakhlelh luat avangin, chu hmuna cham hlen mai a duhna thu, hla hril duhthawh zet mai kan hmu ta a nih hi. I rilruah Zirsangzela leh a Phengphe  nun nêm an lo lan loh chuan, ka sawi fiah thiam tawk lo tihna a ni ang!

 

            Tichuan, Châng VII-na kan en chuan, khawvel hnenah sirvate tualchai dan, khawvel dam chhûng zawng pangngai renga lungawina fak hla sa-a min awih turzia, Siamtu siam ang taka an nun reng tur thu a puang chhuak ta a ni. Châng VIII-naah chu suangtuahna khawvel duhawm taka, zanva hram mawi tak vanga a chen reng lai chuan, chu zanva chuan a zan riahna tur hmun a pansan tak dan leh, zawhna lungrûn zet mai hmangin he hla hril hi khar a ni ta a ni.

 

            ‘Hlimthla chuan tak ram anna, vawi khat tal a tak rama channa a nei ngai dawn em le?’  tih zawhna ngei chu!

 

Hʟᴀ ʀᴜᴀ ʜᴍᴀɴᴛᴇ ﹙Lɪᴛᴇʀᴀʀʏ Dᴇᴠɪᴄᴇs﹚: A hla châng (Châng-tlar 10) hmasa berah hian Apostrophe-ah, a suangtuahna mitthlaa cham Nightingale sava hmangin a hnenah, a hringnuna natna leh buaina tinrengte chu theihnghilh vek a duhzia a hrilh ta mial mial a. Mangnghilh nun a thlakhlelh châk chhan sawi nân, thumal 6 ngawt a hmang han hmuh hian, engvang taka chu nun chu duh thawh ta nge a ni tih, hriat a châkawm chho ta hle a ni. A hla hril chei mawi nân Keats-a hian Literary Devices thiam takin a han hmang chho ta a.

 

            Châng 1-naah kan en chuan, Mizo thawnthu hian entawn a nei ta a ni ang, tih turin Greek thawnthua mi an lo thihin, Rihlipui (Lethe-wards) kânin dam lai nun hriat rengna chawk châmtu dâwt khawlh khawlh a châk thu, ‘Lungloh Tui’ tlukpui Allusion mawi tak hmanga a sawina kan hmu ta a. Keats-a hian a nun leh he sava nun hi a han khaikhin a. Chu savain siam a nih ang taka Siamtu a fak dan leh, lungawina famkim nena hun a hman dante a suangtuah nasa a ni.

 

            Zirsangzela  ‘Phengphe Nun Nêm’ tlukpui ‘Dryad’ phurthak kan hmu bawk!  Keats-a leh Zirsangzela hlateah hian chîk taka rannungte nun hmutu, Siamtu duhsak zawk mihringte awh tham nun an neih dan kan hmu ve ve a nih hi. Consonant thumal lam rik dan inlalawn chho, Alliteration an tih a han chhep chhoh dan, ‘That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees’ kan hmuh rualin, Vowel thumal rik dan inlalawn Assonance pawh, ‘In some melodious plot, The voice I hear this passing night was heard’ hmuhhmaih rual a ni lo.

 

            Châng II-na-a Simile mawi tak, Mangnghilha (Forlorn) a rawn hmannate hian lung a tihlên raih rualin, lung a tichhe tel a nih hi!       LD hman tam lutuk loh, hla tlar rem pheiah chawlh muan zawk awm miah lova thu chheh, Enjambment pawh, ‘My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains’ tihah hian kan hmu nawlh bawk. Mitthlaa lang riai riai tura Imagery a hmanna - though of hemlock I had drunk, Past the near meadows, Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves-te hi kan hmuhhmaih lo’ng chu maw?

 

Hmuhnawm tak an ni si a!

 

            Châng III-naa mawina leh hmangaihna a rawn Personify dante hi lo chhui ve rauh rauh teh khai. ‘Beauty can not keep her lustrous eyes’ tih leh hmangaihnain, ‘pine at them beyond to-morrow’ a han tih lungkuai hnâp dante hi. Thumal lam rik inang A B A B C D E C D E rhyme, châng tina a hman dan pawh kan hmuin ka ring. ‘To toll me back from thee to my sole self’ tih tlara Inetrnal Rhyme; me leh thee pawh kan hmuh hi. Metaphor, Anaphora pawh sawi tur a la awm nangin, a sei ta êma, i duh tawk mai ang.

 

            Hei hi a ni ka huat chu – Hla hril kan han khawih tui lai takin, kan thlarau chan hre pha miah lo mihringte’n, lainatna nei miah lovin suangtuahna khawvel ata min han phih harh zawkna hi! Hla hril raua chenna a bo nghal a, kut chhuak pawh a nawi nghal nák zel! Hre hru hlawm hian!

 

            He hla hrila ka duh zual êm êm ţhin châng tarlan ngei erawh ka duh thung;

 

𝑶, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒆! 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏

𝑪𝒐𝒐𝒍’𝒅 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑-𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉,

𝑻𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝑭𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒏,

𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒄̧𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒖𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒕 𝒎𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉…

 

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains

My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,

Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains

One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:

‘Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,

But being too happy in thine happiness, –

That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,

In some melodious plot

Of beechen green and shadows numberless,

Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

 

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been

Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,

Tasting of Flora and the country green,

Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!

O for a beaker full of the warm South,

Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,

With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,

And purple-stained mouth;

That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,

And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

 

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget

What thou among the leaves hast never known,

The weariness, the fever, and the fret

Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;

Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,

Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;

Where but to think is to be full of sorrow

And leaden-eyed despairs,

Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,

Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

 

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,

Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,

But on the viewless wings of Poesy,

Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:

Already with thee! tender is the night,

And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,

Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;

But here there is no light,

Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown

Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

 

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,

Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,

But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet

Wherewith the seasonable month endows

The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;

White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;

Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves;

And mid-May’s eldest child,

The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,

The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

 

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time

I have been half in love with easeful Death,

Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,

To take into the air my quiet breath;

Now more than ever seems it rich to die,

To cease upon the midnight with no pain,

While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad

In such an ecstasy!

Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain –

To thy high requiem become a sod.

 

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!

No hungry generations tread thee down;

The voice I hear this passing night was heard

In ancient days by emperor and clown:

Perhaps the self-same song that found a path

Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,

She stood in tears amid the alien corn;

The same that oft-times hath

Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam

Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

 

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell

To toll me back from thee to my sole self!

Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well

As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf.

Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades

Past the near meadows, over the still stream,

Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep

In the next valley-glades:

Was it a vision, or a waking dream?

Fled is that music: – Do I wake or sleep?