Lack and Lavishness

Beside the slippery slope of a desolate river
among the tall grasses I asked a damsel
carrying her lamp shading with her mantle
to lend her light for my home dark and deserted.

She raised her dark eyes for a moment

looked at me staring through the dusk, and floated
her lamp on the stream as the daylight waned
in the west and I stood watching that flickering
flame, uselessly, drifting in the tide!

In the silence of the middle night I asked a maid

when all her lights are lit where she was going
with her lamp, pleading also from her
to lend her light for my home dark and deserted.

She raised her dark eyes for a moment

looking at me, stood there a moment with doubt
and said, she has come at last to dedicate her lamp
to the wide sky, and I stood and watched
her light, uselessly, burning in the void!

In a moonless gloom of midnight I asked

a woman what she was searching holding closer
to her heart her lamp, with that I requested her
to lend her light for my home dark and deserted.

She stopped for a minute and thought
and gazed at me in the pitch dark
saying that she has brought her light to join
the carnival of lamps, and I stood and watched
her little lamp, uselessly, lost among lights!

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 64

Henry Victor          24.12.2012

 

Songs of Separation

The pangs of separation ever melt and flow

into songs through my poetic heart, a home
for sufferings and joy; this overspreading pain
seeps from that deepened loves and desires.

The songs of separation spread in the world

giving birth to innumerable shapes in the sky
gazing in silence all nights from star to star
becoming lyric in rustling leaves in darkness.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 84

Henry Victor          14.12.2012

 

Farewell Speech

As I, this blessed one, take leave to continue
my journey let these be my parting words:

I have thus far seen nothing
but the unsurpassable,
and tasted the hidden honey of this lotus
expanding in the ocean of light.

And in this playhouse of forms
so infinite, I have had my play
and I have caught sight of him
that is unendingly formless.

My whole body and my limbs
are thrilled, already, with his touch
who is beyond touch, and if the end
already has come, let it so be.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 96

Henry Victor          03.12.2012

Dancing Delusion

It is maya, delusion I create as I magnify
myself on all sides and cast coloured shadows
on your radiance, a barrier to your own being
calling your severed self in myriad notes.

Your self-separation in my body is your defeat
creating the poignant song echoing in the sky
those many coloured tears, smiles, alarms and hopes
with waves rising to sink, dreams breaking to form.

This screen you have painted with the brush
of the night and day, those innumerable figures
in front of your seat, is woven in wondrous mysteries
of curves, casting away barren lines of straightness.

The great pageant of you and me has overspread
the sky with the tune and dance of you and me,
and all the air is vibrant, and all ages pass
with the hiding and seeking of you and me.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 71

Henry Victor          14.10.2012