The muffled, transmuted
Vedic and Upanishadic note
In Jayanta Mahapatra
And its vibration
He recapitulates
What it goes
Resounding
Om,
AUM,
Throw into the waters
And the ripples will figure upon
With the break of dawn
And the cockcrow
And with it
The lines, queues and rows
Of the Puri temple,
The Konark Sun-temple,
The Lingaraj temple
And the break of sound
Reverberating
Telling something,
Taking to yore
The old brassy bells
Tolled by unknown hands
Over the centuries.
The history of universe, the creation of it
So many dawns and twilights
Telling it,
The break of sound,
The creation of the universe,
The Vedic chants
With the sacred syllables
And the peaks
Of Dhavalgiri and Annapurna
Besmeared with
Ice and snow
Where the hermits,
Sadhus and sadhakas
With the ash-lines
And a red vermillion spot
On the forehead
Keep meditating.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem