Countless palaces built in the past
Have crumbled down and returned to dust;
The thronging abodes of bygone lords
Are today, alas, but jungle-haunts.
But there beside the faded splendour
Stands the peasant’s cottage humming with life,
Where goes on endless the human drama
Amidst the rise and fall of imperial pomp.
Kings and kingdoms may yet arise
Destined to turn to dust again,
But in the cottage of clay and thatch
The humble human drama knows no end.
While today’s Pride and Riches
Will have met their end in the womb of Time,
The scene of the bashful farmer’s bride
Will be fresh as ever, stepping from the pond.
On the bosom of Mother Earth
Whose simple garment is woven of grass,
Is not the display of wealth and pride
A jarring note in Nature’s tune?
No wonder if over the ruins
Of once mighty mansions
Triumphs in silent mockery
The eternal mantle of Earth,
While the humble cottage–the natural child of
Earth,
Knows no decay or death.
* (Translator’s note: Dr. Mayadhar Manisha, one of the outstanding
modern Oriya poets, is essentially a romanticist and aesthete. His published
works include, besides several volumes of poetry, literary criticism and other
works of prose, the most popular of which is, perhaps, “The Traveller to the
West”. Among his poetic works mention may be made of “Incense Offering” and the
poem, “Moonlight Outing on the Mahanadi” and “Bapuji” which are much
appreciated.)
I view not Thy Temple as far off or beyond reach,
I feel not the need for penances of hoary texts;
The flowers that blossom in the forest
Worship Thee with freshness and fragrance
Sending aloft endless smiles of Prayer;
How charmingly simple this approach to Thee!
Countless lives have each its path to reach Thee;
Is not Man’s very Life
An ever lighted incense of homage to Thee?
The road winds across
The sorrows and pleasures of Life;
Are not our tears and smiles
Offerings worthy of Thee?
The pining of one soul for another,
The surrender of one unto the other,
The agonies of this conflict called Life,
Are not all these but paths that lead to Thee?
Virtues and austerities have I none
Worthy to offer Thee, my Lord,
And what a shame, indeed,
Oh, King of Kings!
To think of entering Thy Precincts
With but empty hands!
But gone is that fright today, oh Lord,
My heart is free from halting tremors,
And content, at last, to seek Thee
Through the daily tears and smiles;
How charmingly simple this access to Thee!