Poems Of India - XX

  

Winnow, winnow!

Look here, fellows

winnow when the wind blows.

Remember, the winds

are not in your hands,

Remember, you cannot say

I'll winnow, I'll winnow

tomorrow.

When the winds of the Lord's grace

lash,

quickly, quickly winnow, winnow,

said our Chowdaiah of the Ferrymen.*

*Grace can not be called, recalled, or commanded. Be prepared to catch It as It passes.

--CHOWDAIAH OF THE FERRYMEN [Translated by A. K. Ramanujan in the book - Speaking of Siva]

 

See-saw watermills bow their heads.

So what?

Do they get to be devotees

to the Master?

The tongs join hands.

So what?

Can they be humble in service

to the Lord?

Parrots recite.

So what?

Can they read the Lord?

How can the slaves of the Bodiless God,

Desire,

know the way

our Lord's Men move

or the stance of their standing?*

*a rejection of orthodox ritual genuflections & recitations

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

The Rubaiyat: Quatrain LV

The Vine had struck a Fibre; which about
If clings my Being--let the Sufi flout;
Of my Base Metal may be filed a Key,
That shall unlock the Door he howls without.

This is the fifty-fifth quatrain of the FitzGerald's Rubaiyat. The wine (made from grapes from the vines) has stuck me hard, has stuck deep and has touched the marrow. It has wrapped around my Self and moved me to a higher plane. Such is the ecstasy of it! I do not care if the world sees me as a Sufi gone berserk! Let it be! This base and primal and unremarkable state of my Being has now been filed into a Key (by the pleasures of the vine) that will unlock the secrets of the existence, without the howling and fervour utterances that has till now achieved nothing. There is nothing to be found by zealous arguments and passionate devotion. A glass of this would move to a state of mystical bliss where all worries, all questions do not matter.. everything is ephemeral, but it has to be lived.