Douce Mère
The sovereign Queen of my dreams, the ever-present Sun in my sky,
That majestic figure, that frame housing the all-mighty Power,
That silvery laughter, that soul-stirring smile,

The caressing hand, those soothing words,
The love-locked look in a mystic hour,
Those marvellous treasures of swift exchange of deep secrets,
All the jewels and flowers, bewitching thousand memories,
Are buried forever in the bosom of Time, the Curator

How can I describe in words, the unbelievable tale of wonder,
The brilliant passage of Someone who embodied the highest heavens?
The invisible Sun came out of the hidden depths of Splendour,
Crossed the life of Earth for a brief stupendous moment
And left its Radiance in the heart of each bud and flower
Nothing will be ever the same, each little spark of Fire
Embedded in the clay of this earth, will grow into a lovely star
I was rotting in a prison. The walls melted in her Presence.
This ugly, blind, violent world disappeared at Her magic touch.
Death who stalks his unwary prey from the moment of birth
Lost his hypnotic terror, his frig htful grip over my nerves.
Now, all around me crowds of faces, limbs and bodies move
In an unending flow as in a ravishing sacred procession
Of numberless ever-changing shadow images of Someone Supreme.
The buttercup of the fields, the swallow, the royal oak tree,
The cow, thelion, man, woman and child, all speak to me
Of a mysterious marvellous Someone who is so intimate,
Yet so far, inaccessible, unfathomable, an enigmatic Person
Who holds you pressed in her loving embrace forever.
How could one love all these people who will disappear tomorrow!

Nobody is born, no one dies, each one is a dream-figure,
A glimpse, a lightning portrait, a mask of the ever-veiled Stranger.


Niranjan Guha Roy