Poems Of India - XXIV

Make of my body the beam of a lute

of my head the sounding gourd

of my nerves the strings

of my fingers the plucking rods.

Clutch me close

and play your thirty-two songs

O lord of the meeting rivers !

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

Whatever It was

that made this earth

the base,

the world its life,

the wind its pillar,

arranged the lotus and the moon,

and covered it all with folds

of sky

with Itself inside,

to that Mystery

indifferent to differences,

to It I pray,

O Ramanatha

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