- The Galleria
Poems by R Y Deshpande
I have heard many songs in the course of time
But many more songs have remained unheard;
But then there is no end to the course of time
And there are yet wide silent spaces to be stirred.
All these hours must pass like fading dreams
And all the notions of life and its mystery
Deepen into sleep that is Godís one great gift
Holding in its joy revelationís strange memory.
I am not worried that there were wasted hours
Or that I spoke at times the vernacular of despair,
For the unknown, the unseen, is a wondrous hope
And it carries the quiet flame up on the flaming stair.
But the sky there is not a misty or tenuous blue
Nor is my unsung song made of uncertain stuff,
Now that the morn of morns, and the day of days,
Has come I tell you the unheard is not the far-off.
I might have lived unlived love for too long,
Cherished feelings that sharpen the points of pain;
But Ďtis pain that pushes unhappy things behind, --
To such an extent that love it shall forever gain.
A Chant of Sweetness
A breeze of happiness blows over my soul,
Orange-hued dew-wet from vineyards of peace,
It carries the music of its gold and green,
The songs of birds and the bright fruits of trees.
Streams flow in the honey of its sweetness,
A vibrant light courses through cell and cell;
My whole being is jubilant, as if a prayer
To the infinite was set ablaze in it to dwell.
What can I say of the intimate touch of this air,
Exuberance that makes the heart leap to the moon?
O the love that is the foundation of deathless life,
Spontaneous and true, and splendid like the noon!
There is the secret magic which has disclosed
The wonder that the whole creation is a Flame, --
A flame that grows in its own self to be flames,
Everywhere in the awareness a marvellous name.