“To whom, O deity, should I offer this oblation,
Craft enchanting songs of flowers,
Depict the quiver of waves,
O poetess! In your splendid realm,
Turn poet’s life into celestial dreams.
Shadow turned into a painted image,
Embraced eternal formlessness,
In the realm of poet’s mind,
Became a honey-grove of melodiousness.
With an emotional heart, unable to hold back,
Rain came within the blink of an eye,
Upon the shores of Nalanda and Vaishali,
The downpour showered the dense statues.
In Delhi’s memorial samadhi,
Tears welled up in the eyes,
In Sikta’s soil, asleep in the past,
The luminous memories of heroes awakened.
Crying with each drop, like the Taavi bird,
Meeting its own throat’s soothing rain,
Goddess! I have truly moved you,
Rained tears within emptiness.
In Mithila, it wasn’t found, then
Searched beneath the Bodhi tree,
Gautama’s whereabouts unknown,
Ganga’s waves redirected my gaze.
Searching for the past’s favorite views,
Everywhere, searching for an exemplar,
Is it true or a deception of my sight?
The world seems barren to me.
In the mirror of culture’s courtyard,
A reflection in the mud of my vision,
The wondrous tale of discovery,
Lies dormant within these subterranean blooms.
Evened-out fortunes, why did they break,
Until they shattered from the stars,
Why isn’t satisfaction found in history,
Until now, from inventions unveiled?
What made the implements of prosperity,
Turn into the sins of mankind?
Astonishingly, isn’t it an irony,
The blessings of science turned into curses?
Resounding amidst the chaos of civilization,
Impulsive dance of fiendish weaponry,
In every direction, a polluted scheme,
Murder, greed, cycles of destruction!
The weak have become subdued by the strong,
The nation dwindles, the destitute suffer,
Alas! Civilization is now draining
The blood of the helpless in the world.
Resonating in the gallery of culture,
The trumpetings of terrifying serpents,
Fortresses crumble, brothers perish,
Fratricidal swords swing in fury.
In the glittering attire of justice,
The glow of virtue now turns crimson,
Thorny paths await the righteous,
The world is engulfed in destruction.
The gracious dance of civilization’s beauty,
Cries out beneath a burden of sins,
Oh! With every step civilization takes,
It treads on the path of bloodshed.
Shining like a pearl amidst ashes,
Becoming the sublime language of wisdom,
Loudly announcing the truth of truth,
Resounding in every corner, a warning.
A whispering in the rustling of leaves,
The clash of weapons echoing in the distance,
In every direction, sinister policies,
Murder, thirst, the cycle of sin!
The farmers are shouting, protesting,
Donating streams of their own blood,
I won’t consider it harmful, even if
I refuse to walk the path of the sky.
Upon the grand bridge of darkness,
Beneath the shade of the Chitrakoot tree,
Wherever you laugh amidst blades of grass,
Or shed tears in the river’s embrace.
Offering prayers to roots, stems, and leaves,
Kindling the easy-to-obtain lamp of virtue,
Radiating like a bright star in the sky,
Igniting hope in the desert of poverty.
Resounding like the peaceful breath of serenity,
Amidst the tumultuous clamor of the era,
Raining like a shower of golden blessings,
Quenching the world’s thirst in the arid wasteland.
Drawing from the sweet melodies of heaven,
Rising above the core of discord,
Crafting a vivid picture of happiness,
Spreading joy throughout the world.
What will befall if no tears are shed,
If lightning doesn’t ignite the flame,
I won’t believe harm, even if
I refuse to steer the path of the sky.
In the deep splendor of the past,
Under the shade of the Bodhi tree,
Do offer the refuge of a hut,
Instead of a grand palace.
Where you laugh amidst blades of grass,
Flowing with elegance in the rivers,
Engaging in festive play upon each tree,
Spreading your voice like a melodious bird.
Eating fruits, roots, and tubers,
Burning the easily available oil of meditation,
May the society remain content,
Fostering love and harmony amongst all.
No divisions of faith, all people
Wander amidst the shores of civility,
In the golden light of the dawn,
May they all sing with hearts entwined,
“Hiranyagarbhaḥ samavartatāgre
bhūtasya jātaḥ patireka āsīt;
sa dādhāra pṛthivīṁ dyām-utemām
kasmai devāya haviṣā vidhema?”
