Stanzas
O stranger- staying at my heart
Listen to this new parable,
Which I produce with all my art
To cause you interest ample.
A dream did happen in my life;
(A dream that seemed real and true)
The nymph with wings holding a knife
Approached a man, ailing was who.
This man since so long did await
The Golden Opportunity
Now fell a trap for this dame’s bait
That had nor mercy nor pity.
She showed him love and wild desire-
He lingered in the languid thought;
She taught him how to start the fire
His purposes all came to nought.
Deep rooted evil inside her
Gave him a strange satiation;
When each body met the other
Sin overrode all compassion.
Stars were cursing young lover’s fate;
The Truth began to show its face.
Love rechristened itself as Hate;
The knife tore flesh in decent pace.
His body trembled; a feared-
For, pain was insurmountable.
His final time in deed neared-
He felt death was but more humble.
Something cried inside him aloud
(That something was in fact his soul)
The rumbling of rain giving cloud
With thunder will not sound so whole:
‘Like a crazy cloud suspended
Between blue heaven and abyss;
My soul so tired and tormented
Can’t know what’s true and what’s amiss.
Lord, give me chance to re-sustain
Those holy objects of worship,
Which, alleviate wound and pain
Caused by the lash of Devil’s whip.’
So sang he elegy of himself
While she drank his blood for wine;
He lamented his greed for pelf,
The wealth of lust, that made him pine.
O stranger, staying at my heart
(O stranger, not so strange anymore)
That soul was ready to depart
The wretch’d body, down to the core.
This ode did occur more than once
Nay, many times than million;
Poets have sung merely hence-
Same song with all their affection.
I do request, O friend of mine,
Not try to pilfer my poor heart;
Pray, amuse until you feel fine
Not make shameful, my graceful art.
Listen to this new parable,
Which I produce with all my art
To cause you interest ample.
A dream did happen in my life;
(A dream that seemed real and true)
The nymph with wings holding a knife
Approached a man, ailing was who.
This man since so long did await
The Golden Opportunity
Now fell a trap for this dame’s bait
That had nor mercy nor pity.
She showed him love and wild desire-
He lingered in the languid thought;
She taught him how to start the fire
His purposes all came to nought.
Deep rooted evil inside her
Gave him a strange satiation;
When each body met the other
Sin overrode all compassion.
Stars were cursing young lover’s fate;
The Truth began to show its face.
Love rechristened itself as Hate;
The knife tore flesh in decent pace.
His body trembled; a feared-
For, pain was insurmountable.
His final time in deed neared-
He felt death was but more humble.
Something cried inside him aloud
(That something was in fact his soul)
The rumbling of rain giving cloud
With thunder will not sound so whole:
‘Like a crazy cloud suspended
Between blue heaven and abyss;
My soul so tired and tormented
Can’t know what’s true and what’s amiss.
Lord, give me chance to re-sustain
Those holy objects of worship,
Which, alleviate wound and pain
Caused by the lash of Devil’s whip.’
So sang he elegy of himself
While she drank his blood for wine;
He lamented his greed for pelf,
The wealth of lust, that made him pine.
O stranger, staying at my heart
(O stranger, not so strange anymore)
That soul was ready to depart
The wretch’d body, down to the core.
This ode did occur more than once
Nay, many times than million;
Poets have sung merely hence-
Same song with all their affection.
I do request, O friend of mine,
Not try to pilfer my poor heart;
Pray, amuse until you feel fine
Not make shameful, my graceful art.
P.Siddartha
20th July, 2004
20th July, 2004
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