These two poems from an obscure source. Every once in a while I go looking for them, scouring the internet and want to post them here so I know where they are!
SPIRIT OF THE LAND
(Belur Math, India)
Out of unaging earth,
Out of a dark, soft, immemorial
Womb - not the thick paddies only,
Not the slim herons, not the buffalo
And the calm milch cow,
The lifted palm and sturdy deodar;
Not the thatched hut, the naked boy
On the road's edge, the grain winnowed
And piled on the road; not the flowing
Woman, the jolly hawker, the clasped hands
Of brothers joined in artless affection,
The spare, orange-clad monk striding alone;
Not the close bazars, the cozy
Lamps dotting the twilight,
The straining coolie, the round brass pot
Poised on the peasant woman's
Head; not the soiled white saris
Stretched in the sun to dry:
Not all these only, but above and beyond
And through all these, the veiled
Shape, the infinite Mother brooding,
The much affronted, the reviled, the secretly
Serene - long-suffering and forgiving:
She, rising out of this earth,
Above and beyond them all - it is she,
Mysterious and benign,
Whose presence, as you thread the crowded lanes,
Stills you, holds you,
Cheers you like a healing wind.
VIGIL
(Belur Math)
Unfathomable ray,
Which in me, this wide night,
Quietly answers to the tranced quality
Of a light a clean moon throws
Over sheer domes, slow Ganges shallows,
Thick-hung mango leaves:
Say audibly for me here
In the still presence of this moon-touched air
A hidden word, dark only for simplicity,
To catch my faith's consent
And - past trees, water and white silences -
Gather me to me,
Unfathomable ray.
From John Moffitt Jr.'s book 'The Living Seed'. John Moffitt, Jr., known as Swami Atmaghanananda. was a novice and monk from 1932-1963, when he converted to Roman Catholicism. As a Hindu, he contributed poetry to various magazines, including The New Yorker. He corresponded with Salinger from 1953 to 1965, and the two discussed spirituality and its relationship to literature.
SPIRIT OF THE LAND
(Belur Math, India)
Out of unaging earth,
Out of a dark, soft, immemorial
Womb - not the thick paddies only,
Not the slim herons, not the buffalo
And the calm milch cow,
The lifted palm and sturdy deodar;
Not the thatched hut, the naked boy
On the road's edge, the grain winnowed
And piled on the road; not the flowing
Woman, the jolly hawker, the clasped hands
Of brothers joined in artless affection,
The spare, orange-clad monk striding alone;
Not the close bazars, the cozy
Lamps dotting the twilight,
The straining coolie, the round brass pot
Poised on the peasant woman's
Head; not the soiled white saris
Stretched in the sun to dry:
Not all these only, but above and beyond
And through all these, the veiled
Shape, the infinite Mother brooding,
The much affronted, the reviled, the secretly
Serene - long-suffering and forgiving:
She, rising out of this earth,
Above and beyond them all - it is she,
Mysterious and benign,
Whose presence, as you thread the crowded lanes,
Stills you, holds you,
Cheers you like a healing wind.
VIGIL
(Belur Math)
Unfathomable ray,
Which in me, this wide night,
Quietly answers to the tranced quality
Of a light a clean moon throws
Over sheer domes, slow Ganges shallows,
Thick-hung mango leaves:
Say audibly for me here
In the still presence of this moon-touched air
A hidden word, dark only for simplicity,
To catch my faith's consent
And - past trees, water and white silences -
Gather me to me,
Unfathomable ray.
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