Treasure Island

D. R. Bendre

(31 January 1896 - 21 October 1981 / Dharwad, Karnataka / India)

Dawan


The Eastern house shone with pearl-water
Gilded smoothly all over:
Flooding through the open doors
Light drenched the entire earth.

The liquid diamond rushed through the fountain
Rushed of it's own accord;
The sweet-scented buds opened up,
Opened of their own accord.

On the leaves, inside the flowers, appeared
Drops of amrita, amrita drops.
Who brought them here from above the sky,
Who put them here, now?

They placed the petal brush
In the hands of the cool breeze
And smeared with scented pollen,
The bees are let loose in the sky.

From the throats of trees and bushes
Rose the songs of birds,
And the wild earth was transformed
In an instant, into the land of Gandharvas.

The eye saw, the tongue tasted,
This my body experienced touch,
The ear heard, the nose smelt,
My mind, temple of God, forgot itself in ecstasy.

Immeasurable is space, beyond the grasp of the mind,
The colour, unseen, is hidden from the eye,
Only the rasa of peace bodies forth in love,
This, my brother, is no mere dawn.

(Translated by G.S. Amur)

Submitted: Tuesday, July 10, 2012

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