Strange Are The Decrees Of Fate
Strange are the decrees of fate.
Behold the large eyes of the deer!
Yet he is forced to roam the forests.
The harsh crane has brilliant plumage,
While the sweet-voiced cuckoo is black.
The rivers flow in pure streams,
But the sea makes them salt.
Fools sit on thrones as kings,
While the wise beg their bread.
Mira's lord is the courtly Giridhara:
The king persecutes the Bhaktas.
[From 'The devotional poems of Mirabai' and translated by A.J. Alston]
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Life In The World Is Short
Life in the world is short,
Why shoulder an unnecessary load
Of worldly relationships?
Thy parents gave thee birth in the world,
But the Lord ordained thy fate.
Life passes in getting and spending,
No merit is earned by virtuous deeds.
I will sing the praises of Hari
In the company of the holy men,
Nothing else concerns me.
Mira's Lord is the courtly Giridhara,
[Translated by A.J. Alston]
I will sing the praises of Hari
We do not get a human life
Just for the asking.
Birth in a human body
Is the reward for good deeds
In former births.
Life waxes and wanes imperceptibly,
It does not stay long.
The leaf that has once fallen
Does not return to the branch.
Behold the Ocean of Transmigration.
With its swift, irresistible tide.
O Lal Giridhara, O pilot of my soul,
Swiftly conduct my barque to the further shore.
Mira is the slave of Lal Giridhara.
She says: Life lasts but a few days only.
Life in the world is short,
Why shoulder an unnecessary load
Of worldly relationships?
Thy parents gave thee birth in the world,
But the Lord ordained thy fate.
Life passes in getting and spending,
No merit is earned by virtuous deeds.
I will sing the praises of Hari
In the company of the holy men,
Nothing else concerns me.
Mira's Lord is the courtly Giridhara,
She says: Only by Thy power
Have I crossed to the further shore.
Only He Knows the Bitterness of Love
Only he knows the bitterness of love
Who has deeply felt its pangs.
When you are in trouble
No one comes near you:
When fortune smiles.
All come to share the joy.
Love shows no external wound.
But the pain pervades every pore
Devotee Mira offers her body
As a sacrifice to Giridhara for ever.
[Translated by A.J. Alston]
The Rainy Season
The rainy season is abroad
And the skirt of my dress is wet.
You have gone off to distant lands,
And my heart finds it unbearable.
I keep sending letters to my Beloved
Asking when He will return.
Mira's Lord is the courtly Giridhara:
O Krishna, O Brother of Balram,
Grant me thy sight.
Strange Is The Path When You Offer Love
Do not mention the name of love,
O my simple-minded companion.
Strange is the path
When you offer your love.
Your body is crushed at the first step.
If you want to offer love
Be prepared to cut off your head
And sit on it.
Be like the moth,
Which circles the lamp and offers its body.
Be like the deer, which, on hearing the horn,
Offers its head to the hunter.
Be like the partridge,
Which swallows burning coals
In love of the moon.
Be like the fish
Which yields up its life
When separated from the sea.
Be like the bee,
Entrapped in the closing petals of the lotus.
Mira's lord is the courtly Giridhara.
She says: Offer your mind
To those lotus feet.
The Dagger
The dagger of love has pierced my heart.
I was going to the river to fetch water,
A golden pitcher on my head.
Hariji has bound me
By the thin thread of love,
And wherever He draws me,
Thither I go.
Mira's Lord is the courtly Giridhara:
This is the nature
Of his dark and beautiful form.
We Do Not
We do not get a human life
Just for the asking.
Birth in a human body
Is the reward for good deeds
In former births.
Life waxes and wanes imperceptibly,
It does not stay long.
The leaf that has once fallen
Does not return to the branch.
Behold the Ocean of Transmigration.
With its swift, irresistible tide.
O Lal Giridhara, O pilot of my soul,
Swiftly conduct my barque to the further shore.
Mira is the slave of Lal Giridhara.
She says: Life lasts but a few days only.
Your Slander Is Sweet
Rana, to me your slander is sweet.
Some praise me, some blame me. I
go the other way.
On the narrow path, I found God’s
people. What should I turn back for?
I am learning wisdom among the
wise, and the wicked look at me
with malice.
Mira’s Lord is Giridhar Nagar.
Let the wicked burn in the kitchen fire.
Mira’s God is the lifter of mountains.
I don’t like your strange world, Rana,
A world where there are no holy men,
and all the people are trash.
I have given up ornaments, given up
braiding my hair.
I have given up putting on kajal
(collyrium), and putting my hair up.
Mira’s Lord is Giridhar Nagar; I have
found a perfect bridegroom.
O my mind
O my mind,
Worship the lotus feet of the Indestructible One!
Whatever thou seest twixt earth and sky
Will perish.
Why undertake fasts and pilgrimages?
Why engage in philosophical discussions?
Why commit suicide in Banaras?
Take no pride in the body,
It will soon be mingling with the dust.
This life is like the sporting of sparrows,
It will end with the onset of night.
Why don the ochre robe
And leave Home as a sannyasi?
Those who adopt the external garb of a Jogi,
But do not penetrate to the secret,
Are caught again in the net of rebirth.
Mira's Lord is the courtly Giridhara.
Deign to sever, O Master.
All the knots in her heart.
Mira Knows Why
The earth looked at Him and began to dance.
Mira knows why, for her soul too
is in love.
If you cannot picture God
in a way that always
strengthens
you,
You need to read
more of my
poems
[Translated by Daniel Ladinsky]
I Danced Before My Giridhara
I danced before my Giridhara.
Again and again I dance
To please that discerning critic,
And put His former love to the test.
I put on the anklets
Of the love of Shyam,
And behold! My Mohan stays true.
Worldly shame and family custom
I have cast to the winds.
I do not forget the beauty of the Beloved
Even for an instant.
Mira is dyed deeply in the dye of Hari.
Mira Danced with Ankle Bells
Mira danced with ankle-bells on her feet.
People said Mira was mad; my mother-in-law
said I ruined the family reputation.
Rana sent me a cup of poison and Mira
drank it laughing.
I dedicated my body and soul at the feet of Hari.
I am thirsty for the nectar of the sight of him.
Mira’s lord is Giridhar Nagar; I will
come for refuge to him.
O my friends
O my friends,
What can you tell me of Love,
Whose pathways are filled with strangeness?
When you offer the Great One your love,
At the first step your body is crushed.
Next be ready to offer your head as his seat.
Be ready to orbit his lamp like a moth giving in to the light,
To live in the deer as she runs toward the hunter's call,
In the partridge that swallows hot coals for love of the moon,
In the fish that, kept from the sea, happily dies.
Like a bee trapped for life in the closing of the sweet flower,
Mira has offered herself to her Lord.
She says, the single Lotus will swallow you whole.
[Translated by Jane Hirshfield]
Lamb Of God
Spoken:
After jesus was born in bethlehem in judea
During the time of king herod
Wise men from de east came to jerusalem and asked
Where is the one who is born king of the jews?
We saw his star in the east and we have come to worship him
Lord we have traveled far
Torn and weary guided by your star
There before us the living king
Halleluiah his praises sing
Herod with a evil plan
Kill the babies
Came his bold command
He tried to alter gods holy plan
God has saved him
The son of man
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of god
The chosen one of god
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of love
The chosen one of god
Three kings from a distance come
Bearing gifts for the only one
Shout to heaven sound the drum
Tell the nations
The lord has come
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of god
The chosen one of god
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of love
The chosen one of god
He came to bring us his peace
He came to bring us his joy
To bring us love
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of god
The chosen one of god
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of god
The precious lamb of god
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of god
The chosen one of god
Spoken:
And so the wise men the shepherds
The ox and the lamb
The angels above
All rejoiced at gods command
As a star shine from heaven
This new king to adorn
On that very first christmas
When jesus christ was born
song performed by by Donna Summer
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Nothing is really mine except Krishna.
Nothing is really mine except Krishna.
O my parents, I have searched the world
And found nothing worthy of love.
Hence I am a stranger amidst my kinfolk
And an exile from their company,
Since I seek the companionship of holy men;
There alone do I feel happy,
In the world I only weep.
I planted the creeper of love
And silently watered it with my tears;
Now it has grown and overspread my dwelling.
You offered me a cup of poison
Which I drank with joy.
Mira is absorbed in contemplation of Krishna,
She is with God and all is well!
*
O my King, my father, nothing delights me more
Than singing the praises of Krishna.
If thou art wrath,
then keep thy kingdom and thy palace,
For if God is angry, where can I dwell?
Thou didst send me a cup of poison and a black cobra,
Yet in all I saw only Krishna!
Mira is drunk with love, and is wedded to the Lord!
*
The heart of Mira is entangled
In the beauty of the feet of her Guru;
Nothing else causes her delight!
He enabled her to be happy in the drama of the world;
The Knowledge he gave her dried up
The ocean of being and becoming.
Mira says: My whole world is Shri Krishna;
Now that my gaze is turned inward, I see it clearly
Come To My Pavilion
Come to my pavilion, O my King.
I have spread a bedmade of
delicately selected buds and blossoms,
And have arrayed myself in bridal garb
From head to toe.
I have been Thy slave during many births,
Thou art the be-all of my existence.
Mira's Lord is Hari, the Indestructible.
Come, grant me Thy sight at once.
A Cowherding girl
The plums tasted
sweet to the unlettered desert-tribe girl-
but what manners! To chew into each! She was ungainly,
low-caste, ill mannered and dirty,
but the god took the
fruit she'd been sucking.
Why? She'd knew how to love.
She might not distinquish
splendor from filth
but she'd tasted the nectar of passion.
Might not know any Veda,
but a chariot swept her away-
now she frolics in heaven, esctatically bound
to her god.
The Lord of Fallen Fools, says Mira,
will save anyone
who can practice rapture like that-
I myself in a previous birth
was a cowherding girl
at Gokul.
The Plums Tasted
The plums tasted
sweet to the unlettered desert-tribe girl-
but what manners! To chew into each! She was ungainly,
low-caste, ill mannered and dirty,
but the god took the
fruit she'd been sucking.
Why? She'd knew how to love.
She might not distinquish
splendor from filth
but she'd tasted the nectar of passion.
Might not know any Veda,
but a chariot swept her away-
now she frolics in heaven, esctatically bound
to her god.
The Lord of Fallen Fools, says Mira,
will save anyone
who can practice rapture like that-
I myself in a previous birth
was a cowherding girl
at Gokul.
King Of Kings
Behold the son of royal birth,
Aligned by blood, no less,
To ancient kings who proved their worth
And ones God chose to bless.
Consider all that history
Has taught us through the years,
Each miracle, each mystery,
The laughter and the tears...
Consider how each king is raised
From birth to adulthood...
As if like diamonds, well appraised,
Superior not just good...
Reflect on posture that's portrayed
To signify his throne...
That tells you he must be obeyed,
For he is king alone...
Remember all his mighty power,
His strength and bravery.
For he is king and you should cower
At all there is to see.
That majesty, that dignity,
That stare that meets your eyes...
Should grant your soul some clarity
And help you realise...
That here he is, the king of kings...
Perhaps your friend or foe...
In either case, his underlings...
What more is there to know?
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'King Of Kings'.
While this poem is about the lion painting,
the poem is written without any reference
to the lion at all. That's because of the
Christian symbolism of Jesus, the Son of God,
whose royal ancestors meant that He was
called the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords.
The poem ends with the realisation for each soul.
Are you a friend or a foe to the King of Kings?
More Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I eager for You
today, O My Beloved,
I eager for you…
there was no such word
until today; today, there is..
to say, I’m eager for you
would be to say,
less than, I am…
when it’s I am, and
which you are, O My Beloved,
that eagers…
nor do I recognise eagerness..
how can I, if it’s not me?
no, today, it's an active word...
what else might I say?
to say I long, makes it sound
that I may never find you…
to say, I languish, makes me sound
so weak and hopeless…
to say, I yearn, makes it sound
as if I never knew You…
even the Hebrew word the psalmist used –
the deer that yearns for the waterbrook,
the hart that pants for cooling streams –
even that word’s uncertain; some say
it’s the way that a deer, feet slightly splayed
upon the sloping bank, stretches out its graceful neck
to the clear, pure, healing water…
some say, it’s that slight sound the deer makes,
as it gently laps that lovely water…
the sound that quenching makes...
today I am that deer, tasting what’s just out of reach…;
that feeling beyond all words possesses me –
the feeling that You who ever are inside me, Lord,
wish to proclaim You outside me –
today, O My Beloved,
I eager for to be myself; for You…
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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