Opening Thy Palm

Here's my translation of a Kabir /Tagore poem In this tree a single bird with dancing song–almost unheard– swoops & thrills its deepest leaves with the enchanting tune she weaves. Who knows its purpose? For at night she comes, and leaves by dawn’s first light. For whom she sings, if not for me, who knows? It may be nobody. Suddenly present, as if from nowhere … she may as quickly disappear. I was not told about this tree, far less the bird – nor have I seen either its colour or its form, nor e’en what dance it may perform; yet its etheric call I hear – its ballet, tho unseen, is clear. Beside an abandoned path, this place is missed by those who’re ruled by haste. Few there are who know the way, and fewer still who choose to stay. Fellow seeker, Kabir says, don’t invite the race of fools who’ll drown the songs and cut the branches; rather, merely leave them clues. One or two within your days may note your path and share your gaze: them embrace without a word – for in their silence sings that bird. (MMS 2010)