Yet he is forced to roam the forests.
The harsh crane has brilliant plumage,
While the sweet-voiced cuckoo is black.
The rivers flow in pure streams,
But the sea makes them salt.
Fools sit on thrones as kings,
While the wise beg their bread.
Mira’s lord is the courtly Giridhara:
The king persecutes the Bhaktas.
[From ‘The devotional poems of Mirabai’ and translated by A.J. Alston]
Since I have been seen dancing openly.In the day I have no hungerAt night I am restless and cannot sleep.Leaving these troubles behind, I go to the other side;A hidden knowledge has taken hold of me.My relations surround me like bees.But Mira is the servant of her beloved Giridhar,And she cares nothing that people mock…
There plays the fountain of loveWith swans sporting on its waters.There the company of holy men is available,And one may talk of spiritual knowledge.There one can mediate on ShyamAnd purify one’s mind.There one may bind onThe anklets of good-conduct,And dance the dance of inner contentment.There one may adopt a headpiece of goldAnd the sixteen kinds…
and madness for Rama.Our wedding bed is high upin the gallows.Meet him?If the dark healer comes,we’ll negotiate the hurt.I love the man who takes careof cows. The cowherd.Cowherd and dancer.My eyes are drunk,worn out from making lovewith him. We are one.I am now his dark color.People notice me, point fingers at me.They see my desire,since…
go the other way.On the narrow path, I found God’speople. What should I turn back for?I am learning wisdom among thewise, and the wicked look at mewith malice.Mira’s Lord is Giridhar Nagar.Let the wicked burn in the kitchen fire.Mira’s God is the lifter of mountains.I don’t like your strange world, Rana,A world where there are…
Whose pathways are filled with strangeness?When you offer the Great One your love,At the first step your body is crushed.Next be ready to offer your head as his seat.Be ready to orbit his lamp like a moth giving in to the light,To live in the deer as she runs toward the hunter’s call,In the partridge…
Your look of lightstills all,stillsall, The curd-potfalls to the ground.Parents andbrothersall call a halt.Prise out, they say,this thing from your heart.You’ve lost your path.Says Meera:Who but youcan see in the darkof a heart?
