Satyavan

All she remembered on this day of Fate,

The road that hazarded not the solemn depths

But turned away to flee the human homes,

The wilderness with its mighty monotone,

The morning like a lustrous seer above,

The passion of the summits lost in heaven,

The titan murmur of the endless woods.

As if a wicket Gate to joy were there

Ringed in with voiceless hint and magic sign,

Upon the margin of an unknown world

Reclinced the curve of a sun-held recess;

Groves with strange flowers like eyes of gazing nymphs

Peered from their secrecy into open space,

Boughs whispering to a constancy of light

Sheltered a dim and screened felicity,

And slowly a supine inconstant breeze

Ran like a fleeting sigh of happiness

Over slumbrous grasses pranked with green and gold.

Hidden in the forest’s bosom of loneliness

Amid the leaves th inmate voices called,

Sweet like desires enamoured and unseen,

Cry answering to low insistent cry.

Behind slept emerald dumb remotenesses,

Haunt of a Nature passionate, veiled, denied

To all but her own vision lost and wild.

Earth in this beautiful refuge free from cares

Murmured to the soul a song of strength and peace.

Only one sign was there of human tread:

A single path, shot thin and arrowlike

Into this bosom of vast and secret life,

Pierced its enormous dream of solitude.

Here first she met on the uncertain earth

The one for whom her heart had come so far.

As might a soul on Nature’s background limned

Stand out for a moment in a house of dream

Created by the ardent breath of life,

So he appeared against the forest verge

Inset twixt green relief and golden ray.

As if a weapon of the Living Light,

Erect and lofty like a spear of God

His figure led the splendour of the morn.

Noble and clear as the broad peaceful heavens

A tablet of young wisdom was his brow;

Freedom’s imperious beauty curved his limbs,

The joy of life was on his open face.

His look was a wide daybreak of the gods,

His head was a youthful Rishi’s touched with light,

His body was a lover’s and a king’s.

In the magnificent dawning of his force

Built like a moving statue of delight

He illumined the border of the forest page.

Out of the ignorant eager toil of the years

Abandoning man’s loud drama he had come

Led by the wisdom of an adverse Fate

To meet the ancient Mother in her groves.

In her divine communion he had grown

A foster-child of beauty and solitude,

Heir to the centuries of the lonely sky,

A wanderer communing with depth and marge.

A Veda-knower of the unwritten book

Perusing the mystic scripture of her forms,

He had caught her hierophant significances,

Her spheres immense imaginations learned,

Taught by sublimities of stream and wood

And voices of the sun and star and flame

And chant of the magic singers on the boughs

And the dumb teaching of four-footed things.

Helping with confident steps her slow great hands

He leaned to her influence like a flower to rain

And, like the flower and tree a natural growth,

Widened with touches of her shaping hours.

The mastery free natures have was his

And their assent to joy and spacious calm;

One with the single Spirit inhabiting all,

He laid experience at the Godhead’s feet;

His mind was open to her infinite mind,

His acts were rhythmic with her primal force;

He had subdued his mortal thought to hers.

That day he had turned from his accustomed paths;

For One who, knowing every moment’s load,

Can move in all our studied or careless steps,

Had laid the spell of destiny on his feet

And drawing him to the forest’s flowering verge.

-Savitri by Sri Aurobindo

 

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