Near
To Thee Lord!
(English
rendering by C. M. Shukla)
[Prof.
B. K. Thakore is a tour de force in Gujerati Literature. Almost
encyclopaedic, he is a poet, a critic, a prose writer, a thinker, a historian
and a Sanskrit scholar. But above all he is the father of modern Gujerati
poetry, his own achievement in this sphere being of a singularly high order.
This specimen of Prof. Thakore’s poetry, comes out in English rendering at an
opportune moment, in view of the fact that his 75th birthday was celebrated all
over Gujerat and Kathiawar only a short time ago.–Tr.]
Near
to Thee and nearer, nearest Thee, O Lord, I glide each hour;
The
signal, mystic moment, lifting me As offering to Thy feet,
Will
soon arrive, and sink into the depths of the fathomless.
Near
to Thee and nearer, nearest Thee, O Lord!
My
sufferings, feelings and experiences,
Precious
treasures of my heart warmed ever with my blood,
What
I endured in profuse tears
And
scraped together in the scorching sun,
Chequered
days of beloved clouds and golden wintry light:
This
wealth of three score years and ten
Will
slip into the unplumbed deep,
Or
clamber to the inaccessible mysterious crest
To
melt at last.
2
With many a strident whip have I
been lashed by Fate,
And
many a bitter-sweet have I been forced to gulp;
My
triumphs and set-backs have no end.
Reaping
rewards of actions good and bad
I
have grown bald and hoary!
Still
there’s no strangeness in my round of happenings,
The
life-rosary of the Son of man turns in such wise.
The
undulating tidal flux, the ebb and rise, is fate-decreed.
Then
why should I complain for what I bore with others?
’Tis
not unwonted, and, besides,
Grey
hair, like children, must not whine at the Master’s feet.
3
But
while I watch the furrows of joy and grief,
With
every breath, O Master, I advance towards Thee.
In
that closeness falls from the eye the earthy film,
Passion
and envy melt and make the heart serene.
The
entire Past, agitations of loss and gain,
The
stiff ascent and sharp privations
Quit
familiar forms; multi-shaped experiences
Flit
fast blend and merge into another.
In
Thy contiguous lustre burn
The
ego and the sense of self ;
Memories
of weal and woe dissolve,
And
the hurly-burly of creation,
Wedded
to the cosmic flux,
Is
rendered mute.
4
Lord,
in Thy presence, saved from the final flame,
Mellowed,
softened, sanctified, do vital atoms live
In fresh ethereal manifestation, splendour-lighted?
Shall
I be there eternally to kiss Thy feet?
Or
rolled from birth to birth, in newer moulds
Of mind and body, get re-made by new experience?
Is
that Thy plan?
Now
that life’s longings fade
And
the mind grows infirm,
What
hast Thou in store for me?
When the mortal frame meets the fire,
What
remains and how?
Will
understanding dawn? Or shall I plunge
Into
the unplumbed, endless sea of Night?
Benignant
Lord! I rest resigned to Thee at last.