Mira Is Mad with Love
O friends, I am mad with love, and no one sees.
My mattress is thorns, is nails:
The Beloved spreads open his bedding elsewhere.
How can I sleep? Andonment scorches my heart.
Only those who have felt the knife can measure the
wound's deepness.
Only the jeweler knows the nature of the lost jewel.
I have lost him—
Anguish takes me from door to door, but no doctor
answers.
Mira calls her Lord: O Dark One, only you can heal
this pain.
Source of the text - Mirabai: Ecstatic Poems. Versions by Robert Bly and Jane Hirshfield. Boston: Beacon Press, 2004, p. 38. This poem was translated by Jane Hirshfield.
TJB: Ecstatic static. Mira’s sensual-ascetic love for Krishna bursts from her song in crisp sensual images. How can her God/Beloved be absent?
No comments:
Post a Comment