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About RamprasadTimeline (1718? - 1775?) |
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Original Language |
Mother, this is the grief that sorely grieves my heart,
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Mother, this is the grief that sorely grieves my heart,
That even with Thee for Mother, and though I am wide awake, There should be robbery in my house. Many and many a time I vow to call on Thee, Yet when the time for prayer comes round, I have forgotten. Now I see it is all Thy trick. As Thou hast never given, so Thou receivest naught; Am I to blame for this, O Mother? Hadst Thou but given, Surely then Thou hadst received; Out of Thine own gifts I should have given to Thee. Glory and shame, bitter and sweet, are Thine alone; This world is nothing but Thy play. Then why, O Blissful One, dost Thou cause a rift in it? Says Ramprasad: Thou hast bestowed on me this mind, And with a knowing wink of Thine eyes Bidden it, at the same time, to go and enjoy the world. And so I wander here forlorn through Thy creation, Blasted, as it were, by someone's evil glance, Taking the bitter for the sweet, Taking the unreal for the Real.
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Ivan
M. Granger's original poetry, stories and commentaries are Copyright ©
2002 - 2005 by Ivan M. Granger.
All other material is copyrighted by the respective authors, translators and/or
publishers.
