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Daily Deviation
December 26, 2013
The Old God, Savitr by ~Vigilo The incorporation of Hindi within the text, makes this piece unique in how it is embraced as a mysterious prayer of introduction and closure.
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Suggested by Nichrysalis
Literature Text
ॐ भूर्भुव: स्व: तत्सवितुर्वरेण्यं ।
भर्गो देवस्य धीमहि, धीयो यो न: प्रचोदयात् ।।
I.
The wind blew sand into your nonchalant soul,
and your heart coughed. I entered the circle
at night, and I was consumed by fire. I did not
know of you then. I have fractured myself into
a thousand souls: but they are all whole, for I did
see you in my absence. Yet you? - you
were sailing, and your head was
full of water light.
II.
I was significant when your mother poured out water
in a copper pot from a balcony; water, which
caught and held the moon, and then spilled over
with a quiet radiance. You wondered whether
the moon lived in the ground. In those days,
you were convinced that the moon was a faded
apple, and there was a man, living in the fruitstem,
who liked to fish.
Dream-works, flower fairies, and a quiet dislike of oranges
have influenced you throughout the years. I am only
a passing fancy, a listener to your hasty apologies,
as I am for those who whisper their mantras twice
before going to sleep. Your mother encourages
belief in others, and you are devoted to her,
and through her, to me. Mothers are beautiful,
freeing your eyes from the blinding sky.
I sought devotion when I
was light and gold.
III.
Now you whisper your multiplication tables at night,
for they are significant. You are guilty time and time
again, so you call me quietly, but you have forgotten
my name. Your days are spent in dreams of waterscapes.
You are no painter, so you dip pinecones in paint. You
are a paper boat, now, running over the babbling brooks
who sing songs of 'why'.
You have forgotten me in your absence. Your soul is nonchalant,
and the wind has changed direction and is blowing sand into
my heart, which coughs, again, again.
The skylarks are humming
my song into the desert skies.
...
धीयो यो न: प्रचोदयात् ।
भर्गो देवस्य धीमहि, धीयो यो न: प्रचोदयात् ।।
I.
The wind blew sand into your nonchalant soul,
and your heart coughed. I entered the circle
at night, and I was consumed by fire. I did not
know of you then. I have fractured myself into
a thousand souls: but they are all whole, for I did
see you in my absence. Yet you? - you
were sailing, and your head was
full of water light.
II.
I was significant when your mother poured out water
in a copper pot from a balcony; water, which
caught and held the moon, and then spilled over
with a quiet radiance. You wondered whether
the moon lived in the ground. In those days,
you were convinced that the moon was a faded
apple, and there was a man, living in the fruitstem,
who liked to fish.
Dream-works, flower fairies, and a quiet dislike of oranges
have influenced you throughout the years. I am only
a passing fancy, a listener to your hasty apologies,
as I am for those who whisper their mantras twice
before going to sleep. Your mother encourages
belief in others, and you are devoted to her,
and through her, to me. Mothers are beautiful,
freeing your eyes from the blinding sky.
I sought devotion when I
was light and gold.
III.
Now you whisper your multiplication tables at night,
for they are significant. You are guilty time and time
again, so you call me quietly, but you have forgotten
my name. Your days are spent in dreams of waterscapes.
You are no painter, so you dip pinecones in paint. You
are a paper boat, now, running over the babbling brooks
who sing songs of 'why'.
You have forgotten me in your absence. Your soul is nonchalant,
and the wind has changed direction and is blowing sand into
my heart, which coughs, again, again.
The skylarks are humming
my song into the desert skies.
...
धीयो यो न: प्रचोदयात् ।
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I wanted to grow old with you
I wanted to grow old with you:
turn grey and fade away, subdued.
To walk with you through all the years
and face, as one, our darkest fears.
We'd burn too brightly for this Earth
and share in sorrow and in mirth;
to each the other's soul would bare
and twice the love, at once, declare.
For each would know the other's mind
and there a perfect solace find;
we would be two, though as one known –
discrete though merged & mingled grown.
I wanted to grow old, it's true:
turn grey and fade to dust with you.
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Into a darkened age, like so much lantern oil.
I do, but for purely selfish reasons –
I think of them as balm for lesions
That keep popping up in my mind.
Lesions, mind you, that are not literal –
They are but the inlets in the littoral
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Boats to keep myself afloat. Whether
I construct them well is up to interpretation.
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NaPoWriMo-17. This is about Savitr, a Hindu god referred to indirectly in the Gayatri mantra, which I've known since I was little. "In modern Hinduism, Savitr is not worshiped directly. However, in spite of the common ignorance, the sacred Gayatri mantra is devoted to this God and Savitr is indirectly venerated." (Wikipedia. All quotes are from there unless otherwise stated.)
The Hindi text is the Gayatri mantra. My favourite definition of the mantra is this one, by Robert Fox: "O Effulgent Light of creation! Let the Sun of Truth illuminate my divinity. And meditation allow my thoughts to be inspired by Thee." (The literal translation is more, "may we attain that excellent glory of Savitr, the god: so may he stimulate our prayers.") This is probably my most personal piece (i.e. 'you' is me, and 'I' is Savitr) ever. There are not enough poems on Hindu gods around.
What do you think? Thank-you.
The part about "I enter the circle ... consumed by fire" is directly translated from a Latin palindrome explaining the behaviour of moths, in girum imus nocte et consumimur igni ("we enter the circle at night and are consumed by fire").
"He is golden-eyed, golden-handed and golden-tongued..." Savitr is considered to be gold, everywhere, and beautiful, too, hence the usage of "gold" here. "...Savitr is the god of the Sun at Sunrise and Sunset." Hence, "light" and other things.
Sadly, Savitr is hardly remembered anymore - so, he is an old god. "... Not even a single mention to the deity is found in the huge corpus. There appears to be complete disappearance of the deity from contemporary Hindu pantheon."
Edited 30/09/2011.
The part about "I enter the circle ... consumed by fire" is directly translated from a Latin palindrome explaining the behaviour of moths, in girum imus nocte et consumimur igni ("we enter the circle at night and are consumed by fire").
"He is golden-eyed, golden-handed and golden-tongued..." Savitr is considered to be gold, everywhere, and beautiful, too, hence the usage of "gold" here. "...Savitr is the god of the Sun at Sunrise and Sunset." Hence, "light" and other things.
Sadly, Savitr is hardly remembered anymore - so, he is an old god. "... Not even a single mention to the deity is found in the huge corpus. There appears to be complete disappearance of the deity from contemporary Hindu pantheon."
Edited 30/09/2011.
© 2011 - 2024 Vigilo
Comments86
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The imagery, the composition, the subtext, is all full of life -- everything breathes with an appreciation and intimacy for the topic. There is a timelessness and endlessness to the atmosphere; everything is so vividly visualized.
In short -- I really, really like it.
Also, I'm glad to have learned something new about the Hindu culture.