Aurobindo 129 Savitri Book 9 - Poem by Indira Renganathan
An appreciation on Savitri-
Book Nine: The Book of Eternal Night
Canto One: Towards the Black Void
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's
Ho, look, how bittered the God of Death..
''Thy passionate influence and relax, O slave
Of Nature, changing tool of changeless Law,
Who vainly writh'st rebellion to my yoke,
Thy elemental grasp; weep and forget.'
'weep and forget'...as a common folk does
Did it suit Savitri? no, she pursued..
'Entomb thy passion in its living grave.'
'Leave now the once-loved spirit's abandoned robe:
Pass lonely back to thy vain life on earth.'
How easily said He..but Savitri was exceptional
For she the god-child..and she in Thy words Guru, marvelous
'It ceased, she moved not, and it spoke again, '
'Wilt thou for ever keep thy passionate hold,
Thyself a creature doomed like him to pass,
Denying his soul death's calm and silent rest? '
'Relax thy grasp; this body is earth's and thine,
His spirit now belongs to a greater power.
Woman, thy husband suffers.' Savitri
Drew back her heart's force that clasped his body still'
'She rose and stood gathered in lonely strength, '
'The dim and awful godhead rose erect
From his brief stooping to his touch on earth, '
'brief stooping'..oh, very picturesque...
'And, like a dream that wakes out of a dream,
Forsaking the poor mould of that dead clay,
Another luminous Satyavan arose,
Starting upright from the recumbent earth
As if someone over viewless borders stepped
Emerging on the edge of unseen worlds........
............My consciousness this moment,
O'Guru, I'm in awe....in invincible heights
Ineffable Thee embellishing poetic creation
My inquisitive apprehension, erring Thee may opine
May thereso, let Savitri in my self arise
Aroused thereso be knowledge and fortune
Comments about Aurobindo 129 Savitri Book 9 by Indira Renganathan
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye