THREE POEMS

 

By Mahakavi G. SANKARA KURUP

 

(Rendered from Malayalam by V. Sreedhara Menon)

 

THE THIRST OF THE SOUL

 

Dusk is here

And the buds of clouds burst forth fresh amber leaves

In the multicoloured light!

And quietly opening the window of the blue

O Tharaka 1 thou dost appear as of old

Proudly resplendent in the glory of the summer eve

Wreathed in a pure and simple smile,

Like a goddess

Bathed in loveliness.

 

Rare moments there have been

When I stood here in blissful reverie,

Drinking in the radiant tears of thine eye

Melting in tenderness.

All, all have faded into the distant realms of memory.

Yet shall I try, in fond fancy

To recapture the lost joy, to renew that experience divine.

 

No self-flattery this,

But what lightness was in the air in those bygone days!

The green hills and the golden fields

And the lush blue meadows did never feel

The press of my foot-fall, as they do now,

Drunk as I was with the ambrosial air.

Sweet sounds and forms of beauty

Made me dance in merriment.

How my young heart frisked,

Waving with flowers and winging the air with doves

And skipping and singing in the company of streams

Will they return, those hours of pure delight,

However much my soul may thirst for them?

 

Well-beloved was I

With the wide universe as my home,

With stars and flowers for play-mates.

Thine eye, fringed with the lashes of the rays

And mine, uplifted, hailed each other

The voiceless music of thy radiant soul

Touched to a trance of adoration

My heart, a pilgrim on the road to beauty and truth.

Ah lovely one, thou clasped me to thy soul.

And of a poor speck of dust made a poet.

But who can retrace his steps on the road of Time?

What is lost to the traveller is lost for ever.

 

How variant is my world now

Furrowed with care and sorrow

From yours, brimful of calm beatitude!

Here below

Are eyes which should have sparkled more than thee,

Faces which should have smiled yet more than thee,

Hearts, worth of a quietude and bliss

Greater than thine, sinking under the weight

Of unremitting agony

When an those crowd around, sunken, shrivelled and bursting

As far as the eye can reach,

When I hear the grievous groans

How can my heart help wrinkling

Thou too wilt turn grey in a day if thou darest touch this sphere

 

And thy soul of ethereal glory

Will freeze into a sod!

Alas, why did the spade of this fall betwixt us,

The claws of this dig deep into mine eyes?

 

O, Daughter of Heaven,

The tragedy of this human world is unknown to thee!

Unknown let it be

This our earth is made of frozen tears

And the very air is spun of sighs

And the monuments of rock are moulded of congealed blood.

The root, stem and flower of life

Smell bitter with .penury, sickness and war.

The hands which renovate the soil rot,

And the dreams which light the world darken;

The civilised fashions of an hour bloom on graves,

They fade and turn to dust; then new blooms quicken to dust.

Nothing lasts, but everlasting grief.

 

Ah friend, not to chew the cud of sorrow

Did I pause befare thee but to seek solace

My heart still leaps to reach the pure empyrean

Through thy lovingly slanting rays,

But dread reality on every side

Presses me down with heavy arms.

Far, far indeed art thou gone from me, O gentle friend of my youth;

Child of Heaven art thou,

I, of the earth.

Yet this my wish:

Let not the relentless hand of Time

Which turns radiant metal into lead

Wipe off thy glory, which distills

Renascent energy into the soul of man

And raises him unto Heaven,

Adieu!

 

ODE TO THE OCEAN

 

(1)

 

Weary is the sky,

With the warm dream of midsummer;

Weary too my heart,

Ruminant of old griefs.

 

O proud Ocean! espying thine august form,

My spirit, half slumbrous, opes its inner eyes,

Thou art the symbol of the Infinite, mystic, blue, sublime,

And my heart, embracing thee

Melts in joy, ineffable.

O Magnificent Being,

Swinging and waving thy hoods in terrific splendour

To the charming tune of Eternity, inaudible to mine ears

The heavens, bitten by thee on its broad, blue breast

Stretches motionless in ecstatic swoon:

 

Dance into my spirit,

Strike into my heart,

Bear me high

On your towering hood.

 

(2)

 

Now reclines the Eve

Silent in her colourful bower of clouds.

O fond lover,

What heart-ravishing serenade is it that thou singest below

Lost in a dream of harmony?

There on the rosy cheeks of your love

Whose golden garb has slipped from her naked bosom

Glistens the first starry tear of inexpressible bliss.

Indeed from thee have I learnt now

The art of pouring out the fullness of an aching soul.

Eternal minstrel,

Teach my heart-beats the rhythm

Of the ageless music of life, true and pure.

For life is music,

Time its rhythm,

The varied moods of the spirit, its melody–

And the Universe its harmony

 

(3)

 

The lovely ‘Sukla Panchmi’ comes soft and slow

With her moon-cup frothing and O’erflowing

With ambrosial bliss.

While thou snatchetb with impatient hand

The fair bowl which reflects her blue brows

And sips with foaming smile

And sings, thoughtless in ever-swelling ecstasy,

Your bride leans bashful on your passionately heaving breast

Her tumbling dark locks showering on it

A thousand buds of jasmine–

Not indeed the reflections of the star-bespangled sky!

Kiss the locks, O lover

Enwrap thyself in them

How I wish them joy,

Those flowery curls of hers!

 

(4)

 

Heaven and earth are now merged in slumber

O Comrade, we alone are here,

Thou and I

Whisper into the ears of my soul

The deep secret of thine innermost being.

O Tumultuous spirit that spurns the limits of life

And seethes with divine discontent,

There burst forth from thee waves of song

Resounding with high serious revolutionary fervour

And shaking the ever conservative land.

Indeed thy message makes

Even the lofty, changeless empire of the stars

Tremble afar in fear.

Let my weak spirit break

If break it may,

Make it the harp

To chant thy lay!

 

THE GREAT BROADCASTING STATION

 

(1)

 

I bow te thee, Oh-Great One

Who created in sportive mood

The Great Broadcasting Station, the Universe.

 

(2)

 

My Lora, how in wonder

I forget my little self

When I listen to Thy limitless programmes!

 

(3)

 

Unseen Thou standest,

While Thy infinite relays

Flood the vast ether of space and time.

 

(4)

 

Space is but Thy mighty Mind

Ever expanding in wonder.

And Time the pulsation of its creative surge.

 

(5)

 

Beyond imagination,

How numerous and how various

Are Thy forms of art, ever new and afresh!

 

(6)

 

When the light of primal morn

Lit the pilot-bulb of the day-star

The vital elements began a serial at Thy wish

 

(7)

 

Which continues without break for ever

In countless captivating scenes

Beauteous and orderly, bursting in joy through aeons.

 

(8)

 

Not a grain of sand is out of place

In this age-long pattern of the fable of life,

Not an incident distracts the evolving beauty of its vital theme.

 

(9)

 

The celestial chorus of the dancing stars,

And the glorious music of the dawn,

Her fingers playing on the mountain-peaks, high and low;

 

(10)

 

And the deep-blue ocean’s ‘jalatharanga’

And fair light’s symphony of colours,

And the sweet melodies of silvery streams–

 

(11)

 

What a splendid background!

How gripping each and every scene,

In fulness of revelation, in final suspense

 

(12)

 

In curious wonder I sit

In a far-off niche, tuning myself

To this all-wave receiver, your gracious gift!

 

(13)

 

While thus I sit tuning the needle

Of the five-valved consciousness installed in me

How forget thy infinite kindness? Praise is Thine!

 

(14)

 

To fix the needle in place

And to sense the waves of Thy broadcast

Thro’ touch and taste, colour, sound and smell,

 

(15)

 

And to lose myself completely

In Thy harmonies-grant me this,

Only this my wish, Oh Lord of Truth and Joy!

 

1 Evening star

 

 

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