TWO POEMS OF BHARATI
Wind, come; come, softly.
Don’t shatter the window-pane.
Don’t scatter the papers away.
Don’t push down the books in the book-case.
See, you’ve pushed a book down,
torn its pages.
You’ve brought the rain again.
You are a clever guy
in torturing the weak,
having a laugh at them.
The dilapidated home, the rickety door
the weather-beaten roof, the rotten tree
the emaciated body, the weary life,
the feeble mind:
The Wind God will tear these to pieces.
He won’t pay heed to anybody’s words.
Therefore,
people of the world,
come along:
Let us build our houses strong
join the door tight
make our bodies sound
have robust lives
keep
our hearts resolute.
If we do these,
Wind will become our friend.
Wind will tread out a mild fire
but stir up a wild one.
His friendship is good.
Him, will we worship, everyday.
Is there life in the trembling leaf?
Yes.
The roaring ocean–
Does its water move because it has life?
Yes.
The stone thrown from a roof-top
drops on the ground.
What causes its motion?
Life.
The flowing stream:
In what state is it?
It is alive.
The silent wind has started booming.
What has gotten into it?
Life.
The ox pulls the cart;
there,
the life of the ox enters the cart too.
When the cart moves along
it goes full of life.
The kite is alive.
The steam-engine has great energy.
All machines have life.
The ball of an earth
Ceaselessly spins fast.
She, Mother Earth:
Her life is endless.
Hence,
each and everyone
in her sacred body
in full of vigour.
The whole universe spins.
The moon, the sun,
all the stars
lying strewn
beyond billions
and billions of miles
and further still
are whirling around forever.
So, this universe has life. .
Only the life of the universe
do we call Wind.
We will worship him, thrice everyday.
–Translated from Tamil by M. S. Ramaswami