Savitri – Eine Legende und ein Symbol. Sri Aurobindo

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СКАЧАТЬ when a goddess’ bosom dimly moves

      To first desire and her white soul transfigured,

      A glimmering Eden crossed by faery gleams,

      Trembles to expectation’s fiery wand,

      But nothing is familiar yet with bliss.

      All things in this fair realm were heavenly strange

      In a fleeting gladness of untired delight,

      In an insistency of magic change.

      Past vanishing hedges, hurrying hints of fields,

      Mid swift escaping lanes that fled her feet

      Journeying she wished no end: as one through clouds

      Travels upon a mountain ridge and hears

      Arising to him out of hidden depths

      Sound of invisible streams, she walked besieged

      By the illusion of a mystic space,

      A charm of bodiless touches felt and heard

      A sweetness as of voices high and dim

      Calling like travellers upon seeking winds

      Melodiously with an alluring cry.

      As if a music old yet ever new,

      Moving suggestions on her heart-strings dwelt,

      Thoughts that no habitation found, yet clung

      With passionate repetition to her mind,

      Desires that hurt not, happy only to live

      Always the same and always unfulfilled

      Sang in the breast like a celestial lyre.

      Thus all could last yet nothing ever be.

      In this beauty as of mind made visible,

      Dressed in its rays of wonder Satyavan

      Before her seemed the centre of its charm,

      Head of her loveliness of longing dreams

      And captain of the fancies of her soul.

      Even the dreadful majesty of Death’s face

      And its sombre sadness could not darken nor slay

      The intangible lustre of those fleeting skies.

      The sombre Shadow sullen, implacable

      Made beauty and laughter more imperative;

      Enhanced by his grey, joy grew more bright and dear;

      His dark contrast edging ideal sight

      Deepened unuttered meanings to the heart;

      Pain grew a trembling undertone of bliss

      And transience immortality’s floating hem,

      A moment’s robe in which she looked more fair,

      Its antithesis sharpening her divinity.

      A comrade of the Ray and Mist and Flame,

      By a moon-bright face a brilliant moment drawn,

      Almost she seemed a thought mid floating thoughts,

      Seen hardly by a visionary mind

      Amid the white inward musings of the soul.

      Half-vanquished by the dream-happiness around,

      Awhile she moved on an enchantment’s soil,

      But still remained possessor of her soul.

      Above, her spirit in its mighty trance

      Saw all, but lived for its transcendent task,

      Immutable like a fixed eternal star.

      End of Canto One

      Canto Two

      The Gospel of Death and Vanity of the Ideal

      Then pealed the calm inexorable voice:

      Abolishing hope, cancelling life’s golden truths,

      Fatal its accents smote the trembling air.

      That lovely world swam thin and frail, most like

      Some pearly evanescent farewell gleam

      On the faint verge of dusk in moonless eves.

      “Prisoner of Nature, many-visioned spirit,

      Thought’s creature in the ideal’s realm enjoying

      Thy unsubstantial immortality

      The subtle marvellous mind of man has feigned,

      This is the world from which thy yearnings came.

      When it would build eternity from the dust,

      Man’s thought paints images illusion rounds;

      Prophesying glories it shall never see,

      It labours delicately among its dreams.

      Behold this fleeing of light-tasselled shapes,

      Aerial raiment of unbodied gods;

      A rapture of things that never can be born,

      Hope chants to hope a bright immortal choir;

      Cloud satisfies cloud, phantom to longing phantom

      Leans sweetly, sweetly is clasped or sweetly chased.

      This is the stuff from which the ideal is formed:

      Its builder is thought, its base the heart’s desire,

      But nothing real answers to their call.

      The ideal dwells not in heaven, nor on the earth,

      A bright delirium of man’s ardour of hope

      Drunk with the wine of its own fantasy.

      It is a brilliant shadow’s dreamy trail.

      Thy vision’s error builds the azure skies,

      Thy СКАЧАТЬ