Douce Mère, Thank you
Thank you, a thousand times, thank you
From the bottom of my grateful heart
To have delivered me from the last terrible prison.
All the walls have fallen in pieces, crushed
Impossible to reconstruct ever.
The eternal Soul without mask or veil, bare,
Pure as a flame, without anchor anywhere,
Belonging to no country, nation, family or civilization,
Free as the wind on the ocean without shore,
Happy as the dunes of burning sand in the sun,
Indifferent as the white summits far from the world,
Serene as an immense Cathedral of frozen ice,
But still feels orphan, without father or mother,
Without family, without root, without country or home.
My vision crosses the restful and reassuring zone of forgetfulness
Where we live in an enchanted cell
Nourished by a permanent illusion, the magic of family.
Your father, your mother are like you, pilgrims on the Great Road
As well as all the people around you, united on the scene
By a playful current for an instant.
Then each one goes, taken away by the capricious wind
To sing, dance, suffer, cry, play a thrilling comedy
Insane beyond all comprehension.
At each street corner, at the market, temple, field at work,
In wars and battles, everywhere in known countries, in lost places
I find again my brothers and sisters, the women and the mothers
my kin, my comrades that I have loved according to the plot of the drama,
Sometimes we are fighting each others in bloody battles.
Sometimes we laugh and joke in an emotional reunion,
All the relations vanish in a delirium
Everything gets mixed; there are no more barriers between souls.
O my soul keep calm amidst the benefic hurricane
This divine madness that sweeps away the deadly boundary
Marks of the separation of the dividing mind
That fragments the world in tragic pieces.
I am not orphan any longer, I have found my family
The eternal Divine, infinite, my Beloved, my Sister-Soul.
The face of a passer-by plunges me in a crushing mystery
The smile of an unknown wakes in me strange souvenirs
A gaze without veil of a soul makes me vibrate with bliss.
Om Douce Mère
May I meet You, adore You and serve You in all beings
No more frontiers, cries, massacres, shouts
Your curing Love embraces and blesses the world.
In the field sprinkles with blood
Grow luminous immortal roses.
Niranjan Guha Roy 1993