 The color of my consciousness made the emerald green, and the ruby red.
I gazed at the sky, and the light dazzled in the east and the west.
I turned to the rose and exclaimed – ‘it’s beautiful!’ and beautiful it became.
You say, ‘it’s philosophy, not a poetic composition.’ I say, ‘it’s truth, and that makes it poetry.’
This is my proud claim – pride on behalf of the whole of humanity, that only on the canvas of the human ego is drawn the artistic masterpiece of the universe.
The philosophers are negating existence in every breath – muttering ‘No, no, no. Not emerald, not ruby, not light, not rose. Nor I, nor you.’
Meanwhile, the limitless one is exploring itself within the limits of humanity. That’s called ‘I’.
… Excerpted from Shyamoli (1936), translated from the Bengali version "Ami". |
Sangha of Auspicious Companions 