Jeff Smith noon, March 8
From the “Malatimadhava”
- Glory to Saktinath, upon whose steps,
- The mighty goddesses attend, whom seek
- Successfully alone the firm of thought.
- He crowns the lofty aims of those who know
- And hold his form, as the pervading spirit,
- That, one with their own essence, makes his seat
- The heart, the lotus center of the sphere
- Sixfold by ten nerves circled. Such am I.
- Freed from all perishable bonds, I view
- The eternal soul embodied as the God.
- Forced by my spells to tread the mystic labyrinth,
- And rise in splendor throned upon my heart.
- Hence through the many channeled veins I draw
- The grosser elements of this mortal body,
- And sour unwearied through the air, dividing
- The water-shedding clouds. Upon my flight,
- Horrific honors wait; —the hollow skulls,
- That low descending from my neck depend,
- Emit fierce music as they clash together,
- Or strike the trembling plates that gird my loins!
- — from the “Malatimadhava” by Bhavabhuti (trans. H. H. Wilson).
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