Orchestra in the Forests
Darkness tramples my throat— For my soul, radiance-tanks are needed to take bath. Colossal wind-circles are needed for me to take water with two arms - Green forests, meadows, birds and animals are needed for my eye - my soul surges forward toward them breaking all barriers; the verge of a wet green grass-stalk is enough, a thousand-petalled lotus blooms in my mind.
The voices of the birds that sound like orchestra in the forests are enough, my dreams rush forth; birds are the first poets in the world.
In the meadows where the fruit-bunches hanging like electric lights, and flower-branches swaying like chandeliers together control the five senses; on the green grasslands my dreams playfully spend time. There aromas intoxicate the wind.
For my well-trained eye, flower, bird, colour, and raga are all manifestations of one thing only; different resting places where the soul sojourns in its journey; that my soul immerses itself in one or the other is the sure sign of it.
My soul has converted my body into a garden where different seasons make a sojourn; not only in mansions, but even in heart- flames, there remain gardens, man should tend them. More than outer fields, they should be tended in inner domains...In such poetry-pastures, a peacock should dance like a simile.
Looking at the colour of a flower, I can live for a hundred centuries - Sounds that are life-treasures can be heard only by deathless souls; to gain these sensations of the realms beyond, a magical sunshine-laden art is needed that can be practised in inner recesses…
Then only we come to know that birds' voice is greater than man's voice - the language of the flowers is greater than that of birds - language of the forests, of the streams, of the oceans, the language of the skies and the earth, so many! This is all a magic school of original languages in which experiences are used as alphabets. My soul breathes in those magic sounds. How much is this world indebted to colourful evenings, birds of different ragas, wafting breezes - how can the untrained minds understand?
Having looked at the world intently and studied men deeply I realized that the world is but a collage of signs... all these humans are only signs, wherever we go, humans change, but meanings do not change.