Poetry

O’ver hill and dale and mountain range,
In temple, church, and mosque,
In Vedas, Bible, Al Koran
I had searched for Thee in vain.

Like a child in the wildest forest lost
I have cried and cried alone,
“Where art Thou gone, my God, my love?
The echo answered, “gone.”

And days and nights and years then passed
A fire was in the brain,
I knew not when day changed in night
The heart seemed rent in twain.
I laid me down on Ganges’s shore,
Exposed to sun and rain;
With burning tears I laid the dust
And wailed with waters’ roar.

I called on all the holy names
Of every clime and creed.
“Show me the way, in mercy, ye
Great ones who have reached the goal.”

Years then passed in bitter cry,
Each moment seemed an age,
Till one day midst my cries and groans
Some one seemed calling me.

A gentle soft and soothing voice
That said ‘my son’ ‘my son’,
That seemed to thrill in unison
With all the chords of my soul.

I stood on my feet and tried to find
The place the voice came from;
I searched and searched and turned to see
Round me, before, behind,
Again, again it seemed to speak
The voice divine to me.
In rapture all my soul was hushed,
Entranced, enthralled in bliss.

A flash illumined all my soul;
The heart of my heart opened wide.
O joy, O bliss, what do I find!
My love, my love you are here
And you are here, my love, my all!

And I was searching thee –
From all eternity you were there
Enthroned in majesty!
From that day forth, wherever I roam,
I feel Him standing by
O’ver hill and dale, high mount and vale,
Far far away and high.

The moon’s soft light, the stars so bright,
The glorious orb of day,
He shines in them; His beauty – might –
Reflected lights are they.
The majestic morn, the melting eve,
The boundless billowing sea,
In nature’s beauty, songs of birds,
I see through them – it is He.

When dire calamity seizes me,
The heart seems weak and faint,
All nature seems to crush me down,
With laws that never bend.
Meseems I hear Thee whispering sweet
My love, “I am near”, “I am near”.
My heart gets strong. With thee, my love,
A thousand deaths no fear.
Thou speakest in the mother’s lay
Thou shuts the babies eye,
When innocent children laugh and play,
I see Thee standing by.

When holy friendship shakes the hand,
He stands between them too;
He pours the nectar in mother’s kiss
And the baby’s sweet “mama”.
Thou wert my God with prophets old,
All creeds do come from Thee,
The Vedas, Bible, and Koran bold
Sing Thee in Harmony.

“Thou art,” Thou art” the Soul of souls
In the rushing stream of life.
“Om tat sat om.” Thou art my God,
My love, I am thine, I am thine.

Speed forth, O soul! upon thy star-strewn path,
Speed, blissful one, where thought is ever free,
Where time and sense no longer mist the view,
Eternal peace and blessings be on thee!

Thy service true, complete thy sacrifice,
Thy home the heart of love transcendent find,
Remembrance sweet, that tells all space and time,
Like altar-roses, fill thy place behind.

Thy bonds are broke, thy quest in bliss is found.
And-one with that which comes as Death and Life, –
Thou helpful one! unselfish e’er on earth,
Ahead, still aid with love this world of strife.

Wake up the note! The song that had its birth
Far off, where worldly taint could never reach;
In mountain caves, and glades of forest deep,
Whose calm no sigh for lust or wealth or fame
Could ever dare to break; where rolled the stream
Of knowledge, truth, and bliss that follows both.
Sing high that note, Sannyasin bold! Say—
“Om tat sat, Om!”

Strike off thy fetters! Bonds that bind thee down,
Of shining gold, or darker, baser ore;
Love, hate—good, bad—and all the dual throng.
Know slave is slave, caressed or whipped, not free;
For fetters thou’ of gold, are not less strong to bind.
Then off with them Sannyasin bold! Say—
“Om tat sat, Om!”

Let darkness go; the will-o’-the-wisp that leads
With blinking light to pile more gloom on gloom.
This thirst for life, for ever quench; it drags,
From birth to death and death to birth, the soul.
He conquers all who conquers self. Know this
And never yield, Sannyasin bold! Say—
“Om tat sat, Om!”

“Who sows must reap,” they say, “and cause must bring
The sure effect; good, good; bad, bad; and none
Escape the law. But whoso wears a form
Must wear the chain.” Too true, but far beyond
Both name and form is Atman, ever free.
Know thou art That, Sannyasin bold! Say—
“Om tat sat, Om!”

They know not truth, who dream such vacant dreams
As father, mother, children, wife, and friend.
The sexless Self! whose father He? whose child?
Whose friend, whose foe is He who is but One?
The Self is all in all, naught else exists;
And thou art That, Sannyasin bold! Say—
“Om tat sat, Om!”

There is but One—The Free—The Knower—Self!
Without a name, without a form or stain;
In Him is Maya dreaming all this dream.
The Witness, He appears as nature, soul.
Know thou art That, Sannyasin bold! Say—
“Om tat sat, Om!”

Where seekest thou? That freedom, friend, this world
Nor that, can give. In books and temples vain
Thy search. Thine only is the hand that holds
The rope that drags thee on. Then, cease lament,
Let go thy hold, Sannyasin bold! Say—
“Om tat sat, Om!”

Say – “Peace to all: From me no danger be
To aught that lives; in those that dwell on high,
In those that lowly creep, I am the Self in all!
All life both here and there, do I renounce,
All heav’ns, earths and hells; all hopes and fears.”
Thus cut thy bonds, Sannyasin bold! Say—
“Om tat sat, Om!”

Heed then no more how body lives or goes,
Its task is done. Let Karma float it down,
Let one put garlands on, another kick
This frame; say naught. No praise or blame can be
Where praiser, praised- and blamer, blamed- are one.
Thus be thou calm, Sannyasin bold! Say—
“Om tat sat, Om!”

Truth never comes where lust and fame and greed
Of gain reside. No man who thinks of woman
As his wife can ever perfect be;
Nor he who owns the least of things, nor he
Whom anger chains, can pass thro’ Maya’s gates.
So, give these up, Sannyasin bold! Say—
“Om tat sat, Om!”

Have thou no home. What home can hold thee, friend?
The sky thy roof, the grass thy bed; and food
What chance may bring, well cooked or ill, judge not.
No food or drink can taint that noble self
Which knows Itself. Like rolling river, be
Thou ever free, Sannyasin bold! Say—
“Om tat sat, Om!”

Few only know the truth. The rest will hate
And laugh at thee, great one; but pay no heed.
Go thou, the free, from place to place, and help
Them out of darkness, Maya’s veil. Without
The fear of pain or search for pleasure, go
Beyond them both Sannyasin bold! Say—
“Om tat sat, Om!”

Thus day to day, till Karma’s powers spent
Release the soul for ever. No more is birth
Nor I, nor thou, nor god, nor man. The “I”
Has All become, the all is “I” and bliss.
Know thou art That, Sannyasin bold! Say—
“Om tat sat, Om!”

This is your cup — the cup assigned
to you from the beginning.
Nay, My child, I know how much
of that dark drink is your own brew
Of fault and passion, ages long ago,
In the deep years of yesterday, I know.

This is your road — a painful road and drear.
I made the stones that never give you rest.
I set your friend in plesant ways and clear,
And he shall come like you, unto My breast.
But you, My child, must travel here.

This is your task. It has no joy nor grace,
But it is not meant for any other hand,
And in My universe hath measured place,
Take it. I do not bid you understand.
I bid you close your eyes to see My face.

The wounded snake its hood unfurls,
The flame stirred up doth blaze,
The desert air resounds the calls
Of heart-struck lion’s rage.

The cloud puts forth it deluge strength
When lightning cleaves its breast,
When the soul is stirred to its in most depth
Great ones unfold their best.

Let eyes grow dim and heart grow faint,
And friendship fail and love betray,
Let Fate its hundred horrors send,
And clotted darkness block the way.

All nature wear one angry frown,
To crush you out – still know, my soul,
You are Divine. March on and on,
Nor right nor left but to the goal.

Nor angel I, nor man, nor brute,
Nor body, mind, nor he nor she,
The books do stop in wonder mute
To tell my nature; I am He.

Before the sun, the moon, the earth,
Before the stars or comets free,
Before e’en time has had its birth,
I was, I am, and I will be.

The beauteous earth, the glorious sun,
The calm sweet moon, the spangled sky,
Causation’s law do make them run;
They live in bonds, in bonds they die.

And mind its mantle dreamy net
Cast o’er them all and holds them fast.
In warp and woof of thought are set,
Earth, hells, and heavens, or worst or best.

Know these are but the outer crust –
All space and time, all effect, cause.
I am beyond all sense, all thoughts,
The witness of the universe.

Not two nor many, ’tis but one,
And thus in me all me’s I have;
I cannot hate, I cannot shun
Myself from me, I can but love.

From dreams awake, from bonds be free,
Be not afraid. This mystery,
My shadow, cannot frighten me,
Know once for all that I am He.

(Rendered from Bengali)

One Mass, devoid of form, name, and colour,
Timeless, devoid of time past and future,
Spaceless, voiceless, boundless, devoid of all–
Where rests hushed even speech of negation.

From thence, down floweth the river causal,
Wearing the form of desire radiant,
Its heaving waters angrily roaring
The constant roar, “I am”, “I am”.

In that ocean of desire limitless,
Appear shining waves, countless, infinite,
Oh, of what power manifold they are,
Of what forms myriad, of what repose,
Of what movements varied, who can reckon?

Millions of moons, millions of suns,
Taking their birth in that very ocean,
Rushing headlong with din tumultuous,
Overspread the whole firmament, drowning
The points of heaven in light effulgent.

In it arise and reside what beings,
Quick with life, dull, and lifeless–unnumbered,
And pleasure and pain, disease, birth, and death!
Verily, the Sun is He, His the ray,
Nay, the Sun is He, and He is the ray.

(Rendered from Bengali)

Lo! The sun is not, nor the comely moon,
All light extinct; in the great void of space
Floats shadow-like the image-universe.

In the void of mind involute, there floats
The fleeting universe, rises and floats,
Sinks again, ceaseless, in the current “I”.

Slowly, slowly, the shadow-multitude
Entered the primal womb, and flowed ceaseless,
The only current, the “I am”, “I am”.

Lo! ‘Tis stopped, ev’n that current flows no more,
Void merged into void–beyond speech and mind
Whose heart understands, he verily does.

If things go ill or well —
If joy rebounding spreads the face,
Or sea of sorrow swells —
A play — we each have part,
Each one to weep or laugh as may;
Each one his dress to don —
Its scenes, alternative shine and rain.

Thou dream, O blessed dream!
Spread far and near thy veil of haze,
Tone down the lines so sharp,
Make smooth what roughness seems.

No magic but in thee!
Thy touch make desert bloom to life.
Harsh thunder, sweetest song,
Fell death, the sweet release.

Where darkness is interpreted as light,
Where misery passes for happiness,
Where disease is pretended to be health,
Where the new-born’s cry but shows ’tis alive;
Dost thou, O wise, expect happiness here?

Where war and competition ceaseless run,
Even the father turns against the son,
Where “self”, “self”–this always the only note,
Dost thou, O wise, seek for peace supreme here?

A glaring mixture of heaven and hell,
Who can fly from this Samsar of Maya?
Fastened in the neck with Karma’s fetters,
Say, where can the slave escape for safety?

The paths of Yoga and of sense-enjoyment,
The life of the householder and Sannyas,
Devotion, worship, and earning riches,
Vows, Tyaga, and austerities severe,
I have seen through them all. What have I known?

–Have known there’s not a jot of happiness,
Life is only a cup of Tantalus;
The nobler is your heart, know for certain,
The more must be your share of misery.

Thou large-hearted Lover unselfish, know,
There’s no room in this sordid world for thee;
Can a marble figure e’er brook the blow
That an iron mass can afford to bear?

Couldst thou be as one inert and abject,
Honey-mouthed, but with poison in thy heart,
Destitute of truth and worshipping self,
Then thou wouldst have a place in this Samsar.

Pledging even life for gaining knowledge,
I have devoted half my days on earth;
For the sake of love, even as one insane,
I have often clutched at shadows lifeless;

For religion, many creeds have I sought,
Lived in mountain-caves, on cremation-grounds,
By the Ganga and other sacred streams,
And how many days have I passed on alms!

Friendless, clad in rags, with no possession,
Feeding from door to door on what chance would bring.
The frame broken under Tapasya’s weight;
What riches, ask thou, have I earned in life?

Listen, friend, I will speak my heart to thee;
I have found in my life this truth supreme–
Buffeted by waves, in this whirl of life,
There’s one ferry that takes across the sea.

Formulas of worship, control of breath,
Science, philosophy, systems varied,
Relinquishment, possession, and the life,
All these are but delusions of the mind–
Love, Love–that’s the one thing, the sole treasure.

In Jiva and Brahman, in man and God,
In ghosts, and wraiths, and spirits, and so forth,
In Devas, beasts, birds, insects, and in worms,
This Prema dwells in the heart of them all.

Say, who else is the highest God of gods?
Say, who else moves all the universe?
The mother dies for her young, robber robs–
Both are but the impulse of the same Love!

Beyond the ken of human speech and mind,
It dwells in weal and woe; ’tis that which comes
As the all-powerful, all-destroyer
Kali, and as the kindliest mother.

Disease, bereavement, pinch of poverty,
Dharma, and its opposite Adharma,
Are but ITS worship in manifold modes;
Say, what does by himself a Jiva do?

Deluded is he who happiness seeks,
Lunatic he who misery wishes,
Insane he too who fondly longs for death,
Immortality–vain aspiration!

For, far, however far you may travel,
Mounted on the brilliant mental car,
‘Tis the same ocean of the Samsar,
Happiness and misery whirling on.

Listen O Vihangam, bereft of wings,
‘Tis not the way to make good your escape;
Time and again you get blows, and collapse,
Why then attempt what is impossible?

Let go your vain reliance on knowledge,
Let go your prayers, offerings, and strength,
For Love selfless is the only resource;–
Lo, the insects teach, embracing the flame’

The base insect’s blind, by beauty charmed,
Thy soul is drunken with the wine of Love;
O thou Lover true, cast into the fire
All thy dross of self, thy mean selfishness.

Say–comes happiness e’er to a beggar?
What good being object of charity?
Give away, ne’er turn to ask in return,
Should there be the wealth treasured in thy heart.

Ay, born heir to the Infinite thou art,
Within the heart is the ocean of Love,
“Give”, “Give away”–whoever asks return,
His ocean dwindles down to a mere drop.

From highest Brahman the yonder worm,
And to the very minutest atom,
Everywhere is the same God, the All-Love;
Friend, offer mind, soul, body, at their feet.

These are His manifold forms before thee,
Rejecting them, where seekest thou for God?
Who loves all beings without distinction,
He indeed is worshipping best his God.

What though thy bed be frozen earth,
Thy cloak the chilling blast;
What though no mate to clear thy path,
Thy sky with gloom o’ercast —

What though of love itself doth fail,
Thy fragrance strewed in vain;
What though if bad o’er good prevail,
And vice o’er virtue reign —

Change not thy nature, gentle bloom,
Thou violet, sweet and pure,
But ever pour thy sweet perfume
Unasked, unstinted, sure !