Thou art an undying distant promise,
Me a slow traveller on foot
Suffering separation for long,
Dissipating to die on the way,
I see when no end of the endless path.
In gaining, getting I lose thee,
In losing I seem to gain,
Let this long discontent be life—
Endless quench, death of death.
In darkling clouds thine lightning outline
Comes to be and soon goes off the sight,
That I can't in eyes capture,
The faint thee oft showing, as oft lost,
Which in the illusion of the moonbeam,
I search in every grain of creation,
And scarce can still recognise.
I travel, discontent my life,
Yet, journey is my joy.
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From mahāgītā in Hindi by Osho
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Translation |10.07.14 |
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The journey can be a long one, but a good one. A great poem.
My apologies, Dave Walker, for not visiting this page. Let me thank you for your feedback, though late. And wish you (again rather late) very happy 2019.