Ye Pull All The Strings Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

No use O from battlefront to preach me
That world's no vain, nor is life a bad dream,
Soul never hunts, nor ever hunted be,
Life aught be lived still on heaven's sole whim.

Eternal if the soul be as say you,
If death be no foe that kills, but is friend,
A smart gimmick to beget garment new,
Just as is served, man still plays given hand.

And plays on till the death new life to gain,
Forever new lessons to understand,
And still, poor life aught sing same tired refrain,
The same old tasks in a new dress to fend!

And so doth life meander death to death
To make the same mistakes, commit same evil,
To die slow death right from very first breath,
Don't ye feel destiny's unfair to deal?

Your flute is a symbol of life,
Better teach me way out from strife,
It is life ye loved all along,
So let me see life's a sweet song.

Life-joys ye say go hand in hand,
An if Liberation be bliss,
And still the other way should wend,
What use this world, what use life is?

If world seems a field fraught with battles,
At best a shelter for odd night,
No one in a life-long camp settles,
And do his deeds that ye deem right.

And O ye let me all the mistakes make,
Make me dance like dolls whilst ye hide the string.
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From one who has done a serious poetic translation of Bhagavad-Gita, here is his tongue-in-cheek interpretation of the text. ______________________________________________________
Musings | 10.08.11 |