mortality

The long line of philosophers!
None could out talk mortality;
Born out to die; all suffered
Inevitable dusty change;
Their bones are piled as high as
Mount Vipula, lapped by vast seas
Of weeping, pain and parting,
Proving that no philosophy
Can break the wheel of birth and death

-Tanshan

‘Tanshan’ which means Cold Mountain, was the pseudonym adopted by an unknown poet who lived in China as a hermit 1,200 years ago.

na main dharmi nahi adharmi

na main dharmi nahi adharmi na main jati na kami ho

na main kehta na main suntan na main sevak swami ho

na main bandha na main mukta na nirbandh sarvangi ho

na kahu se nyara hua na kahu ka sangi ho

na hum narak lok ko jate na hum sarag sidhare ho

sab hi karam hamara keeya hum karman ten yare ho

ya mat ko ki birla bujhe so satguru ho baithe ho

mat kabir kahu ko thape mat kahu ko mete ho

 - Kabir

nothing but thy love

Yes, i know, this is nothing but thy love, O beloved of my heart – this golden light that dances upon the leaves, these idle clouds sailing across the sky, this passing breeze leaving its coolness upon my forehead.

The morning light has flooded my eyes – this is thy message to my heart. Thy face is bent from above, thy eyes look down on my eyes, and my heart has touched thy feet.

- Tagore, in Geetanjali

i remember you

I remember you as you were in the last autumn.
You were the grey beret and the still heart.
In your eyes the flames of the twilight fought on.
And the leaves fell in the water of your soul.Clasping my arms like a climbing plant
the leaves garnered your voice, that was slow and at peace.
Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning.
Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul.I feel your eyes traveling, and the autumn is far off:
grey beret, voice of a bird, heart like a house
towards which my deep longings migrated
and my kisses fell, happy as embers.

Sky from a ship. Field from the hills:
Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond!
Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing.
Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.

-Pablo Neruda

lo ateet se utna hi…

Lo ateet se utna hi jitna poshak hai,
Jeern sheern ka moh mrituyu ka hi dyotak hai,
Todo bandhan ruke na chintan,
Gati jeevan ka satya chirantan,
Dhara ke shaashwat prawah me,
Itne gatimay bano ki jitna parivartan hai.

- Dwarika Prasad Maheshwari

poetry

And it was at that age … Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when,
no they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me. I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.

- Pablo Neruda

to read neruda is bliss. and when he writes about writing poetry, the world has to listen. and wonder. how a poet’s heart breaks loose on the wind.