Hollow, unmusical words

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1.I speak of an hour that is alive, Not of rivers that are dry, Not of a clown’s tragedy Met with indifferent eyes, No, not dramatic verses, But hollow, unmusical words Of moments destined to be forgotten, And lost in a meditative and scandalou...

1.

I speak of an hour that is alive,
Not of rivers that are dry,
Not of a clown’s tragedy
Met with indifferent eyes,
No, not dramatic verses,
But hollow, unmusical words
Of moments destined to be forgotten,
And lost in a meditative and scandalous silence,
In other words – life
– A sacred and unintelligible chaos,
Where heretics have been burning,
You can hear them laughing,
And, although, no new hymns are sung,
A new sacred call was heard this morning.

 

2.

Many years ago,
with a passion that swayed with her
a woman made a prayer
to the night’s players,
that was filled with colors
of emotions,

Saturn, who wanders,
a mythological character,
speaking the wisdom of the night,
told tales and art,
history and magic,
satires and caricatures,
a horoscope burning with life,
that said nothing, however,
about the Earth that night.

Above the grave she is buried in
in the cemetery,
the sky still tells stories.

 

3.

Some tunes enlighten,
certain others, for example,
the music of war:
a horn blown at a temple in a desert,
fails to teach anything profound,
or contemplate a great idea,
Krishna’s sermon to Arjun
was poetry that lived
not in books but in the war,
it was a rose field
in a mad night,
it was poetry,
where heroes and villains were alike,
each ghost of the stage
painted on canvas in different shades of fire,
where reality gives way to new worlds,
Krishna was the heroic deed of the poet,
which has nothing to teach,
and no moral to be spoken.
Another man called Duryodhan
danced to a different flute played,
जहाँ हस्ते-हस्ते दिन कटता था, (where the day passed in laughter,
जहाँ मौत भी थी, तो क्या?           where there was death, so what?
जहाँ जीवन भी था, तो क्या?        where there was life, so what?)
And the nation was known as Mahabharatha
And the men were known as gods,
for the written is not what one believes in,
it is written so that one believes in something

 

The dreamworld

He knows the depths of the dreamworld,
and of it he sings,
if one is prepared to listen
words that have a meaning,
and of a life that has a goal,
of an art that is living,
and tales never told before
of warriors, as it were,
in dream colored clothes,
bleeding under god or king,
in their fearless, and rebellious,
and thunderous reign,
dying as all free men die,
look at death, what do you see?
Glorious passions in the sparks in the eye,
look at life, what do you see?
A universe born of dreams.

 

 

Chants

Demigods in eternal dance,
each movement, gesture,
emotion, sign
a cosmic principle
and indisputable reality,

an air of beautiful,
worldly truths
of pain, failure,
madness and war,
of heaven, good,
God and valor
fills the stage
brought to life
by the actors.

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