Poems Of India - III

Milk is left over
from the calves.

Water is left over
from the fishes,

flowers from the bees.

How can I worship you,
O'Siva, with such offal?

But it's not for me
to despise left-overs,
so take what comes,

lord of the meeting rivers.

-- BASAVAŅŅA [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]

Poems Of India - II

The rich
will make temples for Śiva.
What shall I,
a poor man,
do?

My legs are pillars,
the body the shrine,
the head a cupola
of gold.

Listen, O lord of the meeting rivers,
things standing shall fall,
but the moving ever shall stay.

-- BASAVAŅŅA [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]

Photo Of The Day

Above pictures taken at Gardens By The Bay, Singapore

The Rubaiyat: Quatrain XLV

But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me
The Quarrel of the Universe let be:
And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht,
Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.

This is the forty-fifth quatrain of the FitzGerald's Rubaiyat. The poet says to the reader, Come with me and leave the wise behind to wrangle with the workings of the universe and their quarrel with the way it works. And in some corner of this clamour and din of the world around us, lay quiet and let it be, take it lightly (make game) of what comes your way. Leave everything behind and come with me, leave the wise to argue and debate on their disagreement of the universe. Ignore of what's they think of you/happens to you and amidst this hue and cry, take it easy and enjoy your time!

Poems Of India - I

Fire can burn
but cannot move.

Wind can move
but cannot burn.

Till fire joins wind
it cannot take a step.

Do men know
it's like that
with knowing and doing?

--DĒVARA DĀSIMAYYA [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]