Remind me, Mother, why the world was made.
It’s chilly here at hope’s aphelion.
I will sing you a song of Basant.
You’ll find warmth as you rise come morning.
Listen closely: hear the mountains melting,
In vernal colors of relumed devotion.
A scent of blooming saffron paints my mind;
Time flows redeemed and sets new life in motion.
Dewy pearls adorn fresh petals,
But cannot slake my thirst.
Gracious showers drench the flowers;
My dammed heart will surely burst.
No snorkels, rafts, umbrellas, arks
Through Your deluge could tide us all.
Fling aside the groaning gates;
I surrender to love’s catarrhal.
Absurdities that aren’t, for His good sense:
Observe God’s wise benevolence!
Imagine how the bees would sneeze,
If they contracted allergies.
AHCHOO! Bless you!
No certainly not; the bees would
Drown the world in snot.
God spared them runny,
Spring mischiefs, since bees
Possess no handkerchiefs.
Quaff deeply from the brook of song
Whose singing tunes the soul,
Whose strains restrain bedeviled minds,
Instilling self-control. Hinḍol shall whisk you
To canorous vistas, glimpsed in reveries from afar.
Exult and drink of this elixir;
Sport the grand cadence of Dhamār.
THIS-is-the-way-he-Roars—
halfway, then Ends in fours—
Gain the cadence of Dhamār.
Being good is easy.
To become good is the rub.
So many islands would beguile:
Cast off your cares and rest awhile.
Home isn’t going anywhere;
Won’t you stay with me awhile?
Each choice discloses what we hold most dear.
Gain alone remains when we lose fear.
The Lord exchanges weakness for truth’s coin.
What renunciation, sacrifice, or rub is this:
Transmuting wretchedness to perfect bliss?
The sky teems with tidings of unleashed beginnings,
Whilst flowers risk all in spring’s bold efflorescence.
Sucklings dream along burbling streams,
And still I yearn to sing this world’s quintessence.
A flash of dazzling insight lights up a distant chamber;
My passage there remains obscured in doubt.
Greenness draws me inwards, through doubt’s savor;
I affirm holy wonder, being for now without.
Your light gives color to vision;
Your Name is the melody in song.
You are time’s timekeeper;
You were and are all along.
Yours is Gurū Nanak’s mission.
All is Your wondrous play;
All this You are, yet still beyond.
Your Basant is every day.
_____
Nihal Singh