Parched By Pain

My heart is scorched, parched by pain

of many days; for your grace, the rain
is held back from this horizon fiercely naked
not even with the thinnest cover of a soft cloud.

I see not the vaguest hint of a distant cool shower;

so please, if it is your will and your wish,
send your angry storm, dark with death and lashes
of lightning, startling thoroughly the sky of my soul.

But call back this pervading silent heat, stagnant

and zealously cruel, burning my heart with dire despair
as on the day of my father’s wrath; so let the cloud
of grace bend low like the tearful look of my mother.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 40

Henry Victor          01.01.2013

The Source

Sleep that swoops on baby’s eyes, the sparrow

says, comes from the kisses on baby’s eyes by two
timid but enchanting buds hanging in the fairy village
in the shades of the forest dimly lit with glow-worms.

Smile that sparkles on baby’s lips, the same bird

affirms, comes from the smile born in the dream
of a dew-washed morning as the young pale beam
of the crescent touched the vanishing autumn cloud.

Freshness soft and sweet bloom on baby’s limbs,

the little bird sings, is from the mother’s brooding
the silent and gentle mystery of love in her heart
when she was still a young girl, tender and fragrant.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 61

Henry Victor          23.12.2012

Rhythmic Rush

All things rush, stopping not

looking not behind, and no power
can hold them back, for they rush
with that rhythmic rush.

It is not beyond you to be glad
with the gladness of this rhythm
being tossed and lost and broken
in the flick of this fearful joy.

You keep steps with that restless rapid music

of seasons that come to dance and pass away
with colours, tunes, and perfumes pouring in endless
flows of joy scattering, dying every moment.
 

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 70

Henry Victor          22.12.2012

Many Joys

I pause to pick and thread my last song
harvesting joy scattered in your world, mixing
mingling with joy that makes the earth flow
over in the riotous excess of the grass.

And with joy that sets the twin brothers,
life and death, dancing over the wide world
and joy that sweeps in with the tempest
shaking and waking all life with laughter.

And with joy that sits still with its tears
on the open red lotus of pain,
and finally that joy that throws everything
it has on the dust singing a song of silence.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 58

Henry Victor          14.12.2012

Diwali, Festival of Light

Light, oh my light, my adorable,
filling, and over-flowing
in my world, oh light you caress
my eyes, sweetening my soul.

Dancing at the center of my being
you, oh light, strike the chords of my love
and the sky opens for the wind to run wild
even as laughter passes over my space.

In you, oh the sea of light, the butterflies spread
their sails as the lilies and jasmines surge
on the crest of your waves as you shatter
and scatter gold on clouds, gems in surplus.

Then more laughter spreads from leaf to leaf
an abundance of gladness
for the heaven's river too has broken its banks
as the flood of joy floods the entire cosmos.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 57

Henry Victor          12.11.2012

From Eternity

I knew not from what eternity
you came right nearer to meet me!
Neither your sun nor the infinite
stars ever kept you hidden from me.

Both in the mornings and evenings
your footsteps had been heard
and your messenger came to me
within my heart, meeting in secret.

Today I know not why my life is agitated
within, causing a whirlwind of joy in my heart
as if the time has come to wind up my effort.
I feel a faint smell of your presence so sweet.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 46

Henry Victor          07.10.2012