Prayer On A Clear Morning In The Month Of Magh^[5] (Maghko Khuleko Bihanko Jap)

How clear this morning is!
The blueness has cast off her lacy veil.

The sky is as pure as Valmiki's heart,
how lovely this is, Ram's dawning.
The crane's blood briefly speckled the sky,^[6] and kindness was born in the heavens;
compassionate verse came in a wave of golden light.
Celestial gods appear to those
who long with shrinking hearts to see them:
the sun climbs up.

A bird flies in the ashen day: it turns to gold
and sings new songs of the human future,
unmoving, a tree raises one finger:
it points to immortal sunbeams
which have attained their own enlightenment,
and are flung out now for the world.

[4] It is an old convention in Indian poetry for a poet to include his or her name in the final verse of a poem as a kind of signature.

[5] The month of Magh corresponds to late January and early February in the Western calendar.

[6] Valmiki, a legendary sage and the author of the original Sanskrit Ramayana, is said to have discovered the art of poetry when he saw a hunter kill a crane. His compassion for the bird moved him to speak in spontaneous metrical verse.

With these rays I weave a net
of emotion in my heart.

The morning star which disappears
is Brahma, who envisaged all Creation,
a flock of pure cranes swims in the brightness,
moving living wings of joy to life's rhythm,
the quest begins, the world is moving,
its feet climb onto the street.

A bird of lustrous beauty came first to the treetop,
it sang a secret rainbow of music, and slipped away.
Within me, a bird cried out, moving its wings.

Heaven descends and Earth flies up
to meet on a mountain peak:
they embrace and kiss with red lips of pleasure;
now see them more composed,
sitting smiling together,
telling the tale of morning,
casting forth warm colors.

Creation dons a lovely garment,
she deludes with her gentle intoxication
and moves with a fickle temper.
The flow of dawn's music comes in through five doors^[7] and the bird thinks its cage is freedom,
so it sings all those songs once again.

The poet lies exhausted on a mat,
the net of straw is ragged,
he's a lame dog with a one-horned cow.^[8] We say this life is joy when we feel
the sun's warmth on our bodies.

Death is cold, so they say,
but the sun's ageless dish is hot.
The grasses chant their morning prayer;
rooted in soil, they rise up for the sunbeams.
Oh precious glory, oh Sun!

In your presence I mumble a prayer,
great plate of radiance, I bow my head.

Teach me, God,
to win through the net of Death.
(1956; from Devkota 1976)

[7] The "five doors" represent the five human senses, and the bird in its cage is a metaphor for the human spirit trapped inside the body.

[8] This appears to be one of Devkota's characteristically cryptic references to himself.