Tuesday, May 31, 2022

Joyful Krishna: The Ten Incarnations

 



from Jayadeva's Gitagovinda:

Joyful Krishna

"Clouds thicken the sky.

Tamala trees darken the forest.

The night frightens him.

Radha, you take him home!"

They leave at Nanda's order,

Passing trees in thickets on the way,

Until secret passions of Radha and Madhava

Triumph on the Jumna riverbank.


Jayadeva, wandering king of bards

Who sing at Padmavati's lotus feet,

Was obsessed in his heart

By rhythms of the goddess of speech,

And he made this lyrical poem

From tales of the passionate play

When Krishna loved Sri.


Umapatidhara is prodigal with speech,

Sarana is renowned for his subtle flowing sounds,

But only Jayadeva divines the pure design of words.

Dhoyi is famed as king of poets for his musical ear,

But no one rivals master Govardhana

For poems of erotic mood and sacred truth.


If remembering Hari enriches your heart,

If his arts of seduction arouse you,

Listen to Jayadeva's speech

In these sweet soft lyrical songs.

In seas that rage as the aeon of chaos collapses,

You keep the holy Veda like a ship straight on course.

     You take form as the Fish, Krishna.

     Triumph, Hari, Lord of the World!


Where the world rests on your vast back,

Thick scars show the weight of bearing earth.

     You take form as the Tortoise, Krishna.

     Triumph, Hari, Lord of the World!


The earth clings to the tip of your tusk

Like a speck of dust caught on the crescent moon.

     You take form as the Boar, Krishna.

     Triumph, Hari, Lord of the World!


Nails on your soft lotus hand are wondrous claws

Tearing the gold-robed body of black bee Hiranyakasipu.

     You take form as the Man-lion, Krishna.

     Triumph, Hari, Lord of the World!


Wondrous dwarf, when you cheat demon Bali with wide steps,

Water falls from your lotus toenails to purify creatures.

     You take form as the dwarf, Krishna.

     Triumph, Hari, Lord of the World!


You wash evil from the world in a flood of warrior's blood,

And the pain of existence is eased.

     You take form as the axman Priest, Krishna.

     Triumph, Hari, Lord of the World!


Invited by gods who guard the directions in battle,

You hurl Ravana's ten demon heads to the skies.

     You take form as the prince Rama, Krishna.

     Triumph, Hari, Lord of the World!


The robe on your bright body is colored with rain clouds,

And Jumna waters roiling in fear of your plow's attack.

     You take form as the plowman Balarama, Krishna.

     Triumph, Hari, Lord of the World!


Moved by deep compassion, you condemn the Vedic way

That ordains animal slaughter in rites of sacrifice.

     You take form as the enlightened Buddha, Krishna.

     Triumph, Hari, Lord of the World!


You raise your sword like a fiery meteor

Slashing barbarian hordes to death.

     You take form as the avenger Kalki, Krishna.

     Triumph, Hari, Lord of the World!


Listen to the perfect invocation of poet Jayadeva, 

Joyously evoking the essence of existence!

     You take the tenfold cosmic form, Krishna.

     Triumph, Hari, Lord of the World!


For upholding the Vedas,

For supporting the earth,

For raising the world,

For tearing the demon asunder,

For cheating Bali,

For destroying the warrior class,

For conquering Ravana,

For wielding the plow,

For spreading compassion,

For routing the barbarians,

Homage to you, Krishna,

In your ten incarnate forms!

~ Translated by Barbara Stoler Miller ~




Monday, May 9, 2022

Trees by Joyce Kilmer

 

                                                (Photo by Brian Green)


Trees

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

~ Joyce Kilmer ~

BIO: Alfred Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918) died at the tender age of 32, but his poem, Trees, is one of the most treasured in America. It was originally published in 1914 in his poetry collection, Trees and Other Poems, by George H. Doran Company. Kilmer fought in World War I and received the War Cross from the French government for bravery. He died from a sniper bullet on July 30, 1918. An old growth forest in North Carolina is named for him.

Plant trees! Support the National Arbor Day Foundation.