The Second Coming

Yesterday we sat around bemoaning about creationists, Sarah Palin, and overall nut cases we keep hearing from, when I was reminded of the lines from this poem: " The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity". Yeats, being Yeats, makes this poem nicely dark and brings forth such a vivid imagery of hopelessness.

It somehow feels nice to think that even back then the world was full of madmen shouting hoarse, and yet the world moved ahead and became better overall. I suppose reason does have some impact.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

तुतारी

Keshavsut was a poet of an earlier era but he is credited to bring Marathi poetry into the modern world where poets talked of feelings, revolution, and other worldly emotions and concerns versus the religious poetry of his era. Even then his poems are quite different and reach the depths of emotions. Not sure how to convey it, but once I put up a couple here, you will know what I mean.

I really like this poem by him. I don't know whats an equivalent of a 'tutari', but its a big curved horn like instrument that people used to blow before staring out for a war. If you have ever watched a Prabhat Studio film, its in their icon. Look here.

Though ofcourse, I feel that his asking for someone to hand him a tutari in the first paragraph violates the spirit of the poem. But thats a trivial objection :)

Unfortunately, as I am translating it, I realize that my poor translation skills are stripping the poem of it's beauty.

एक तुतारी द्या मज आणुनी
फुंकीन जी मी स्वप्राणाने
भेदुनी टाकीन सारी गगने
दीर्घ तिच्या त्या किंकाळीने,
अशी तुतारी द्या मजलागुनि

Bring me a tutari
I will blow into it with my own life
And shatter all the skies
With that tutari's shrill sound
Bring me such a tutari

जुने जाऊ द्या मरणालागुनि
जाळूनी किंवा पुरुनी टाका
सडत न एका ठायी ठाका
सावध ऐका पुढल्या हाका
खांद्यास चला खांदा भिडवूनी
एक तुतारी द्या मज आणुनी

Let the old stuff wilt away
Burn it or bury it
Don't let it rot in your heart
Be aware and listed to the calls from the future
Walk ahead shoulder to shoulder
Bring me such a tutari

प्राप्तकाल हा विशाल भूधर
सुंदर लेणी तयात खोदा
निजनामे त्या वरती नोंदा
बसुनी का वाढविता मेदा
विक्रम काही करा चला तर
हल्ला करण्या ह्या दंभावर,ह्या बंडावर

(This is the best stanza)
Present is like a huge rock
Carve beautiful carvings in it
Write your names on them
Why do you sit and and add to the nothingness?
Come on and achieve some valor
Attack these rules, these revolutions

शुरांनो या त्वरा करा रे
समते चा ध्वज उंच धारा रे
नीती ची द्वाही फिरवा रे
तुतारीच्या या सुरा बरोबर

Warriors hurry
Hold aloft the flag of equality
Spread the announcement of justice
With this tutari's horn

Beauty

In this world obsessed with looks and beauty, this poem speaks volumes: 'Beauty is an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears'.
I often wonder that when we have such low self-image, hold such low esteem of our bodies are, what are we teaching our kids? To be healthy and beautiful in mind, body and brain or to pursue that hourglass or six pack figure. I don't know whether I will be able to convey this thought as beautiful as it is, to kiddos. But then thats the hope, that some day, kiddos will read this.


And a poet said, "Speak to us of Beauty."
Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide?
And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?

The aggrieved and the injured say, "Beauty is kind and gentle.
Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us."

And the passionate say, "Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread.
Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us."

The tired and the weary say, "beauty is of soft whisperings. She speaks in our spirit.
Her voice yields to our silences like a faint light that quivers in fear of the shadow."

But the restless say, "We have heard her shouting among the mountains,
And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and the roaring of lions."

At night the watchmen of the city say, "Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east."
And at noontide the toilers and the wayfarers say, "we have seen her leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset."

In winter say the snow-bound, "She shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills."
And in the summer heat the reapers say, "We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair."

All these things have you said of beauty.
Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied,

And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.
It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth,
But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.

It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,
But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears.

It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw,
But rather a garden forever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.

People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.
But you are life and you are the veil.

Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.
But you are eternity and you are the mirror.


--- Khalil Gibran

When Day is Done

I like Edgar Guest for way he conveys the importance of seemingly simple things in life. Another one from him:


When day is done and the night slips down,
And I've turned my back on the busy town,
And come once more to the welcome gate
Where the roses nod and the children wait,
I tell myself as I see them smile
That life is good and its tasks worth while.

When day is done and I've come once more
To my quiet street and the friendly door,
Where the Mother reigns and the children play
And the kettle sings in the old-time way,
I throw my coat on a near-by chair
And say farewell to my pack of care.

When day is done, all the hurt and strife
And the selfishness and the greed of life,
Are left behind in the busy town;
I've ceased to worry about renown
Or gold or fame, and I'm just a dad,
Content to be with his girl and lad.

Whatever the day has brought of care,
Here love and laughter are mine to share,
Here I can claim what the rich desire--
Rest and peace by a ruddy fire,
The welcome words which the loved ones speak
And the soft caress of a baby's cheek.

When day is done and I reach my gate,
I come to a realm where there is no hate,
For here, whatever my worth may be,
Are those who cling to their faith in me;
And with love on guard at my humble door,
I have all that the world has struggled for.