Pirbhati-VI
(Song of Dawn)

I

1

These are not ways you knew before
thy fiddle hanging on the peg,
And lovely dawn, as if it were
your enemy, so to ignore;
'Musician' call yourself no more
if to adore you thus forget,-

2

How fast you sleep! in pillows put
tour face and weep with sorrow;
May be your violin lies tomorrow
forsaken on the ground.

3

The true musician has no peace;
nowhere for long he tarries-
On shoulder-strap his violin carries
and asks the way to wastes.

4

Confounded do you roam...O say
where were you yesterday?
My minstrel, now no longer loll,
but leave your listless way-
Go to the king's door, beg and pray
for things of genuine worth!

5

The king is giving secretly
gifts to ungifted ones;
If this those artists were to hear
they never would agree,
Their fiddles instantancously
to smithereens would reduce!

6

So many minstrels, of what use
is all the craft they ply?
What servant deems so precious, may
be sin in master's eyes-
Alchemy thou, and brazen I
thy look turns me to gold!

7

Bestowal is not due to caste,
whoever works, obtains,
At childish ways of innocence
forbearance king maintains;
Who one night at his court remains
shall e'er be free from pains!

8

It is the Givers great reproach,
against musicians vain;
"Why do you beg at other doors
and mine do not approach
Hence harm and hardship do encroach
upon their happiness.

9

The only Giver thou, and we
the humble beggars are;
Rains seasons have...Thy bounty's rain
doth pour eternally;
A visitation sweet, from thee
exalts, though soiled I be!

10

The morning star has risen...Oh
arise, adore thy master,
He swiftly turns away; doth know
minds of musicians all!

__________________
"The strongest man in this world is the one who stands most alone"