Fwd: SONG OF THE POPPADUM

[Guest guest]

, Alan Jacobs <alanadamsjacobs wrote:

 

SONG OF THE POPPADUM

 

By Ramana Maharshi

Translation by A. Chadwick

 

 

No need about the world to roam

And suffer from depression;

Make poppadum within the home

According to the lesson

Of 'Thou art That', without compare,

The Unique Word, unspoken

'Tis not by speech it will declare.

The silence is unbroken

Of Him who is the Adept-Sage,

The great Apotheosis,

With His eternal heritage

That Being-Wisdom-Bliss is.

 

Make poppadum and after making fry,

Eat, so your cravings you may satisfy.

 

The grain which is the black gram's yield,

The so-called self or ego,

Grown in the body's fertile field

Of five-fold sheaths, put into

The roller-mill made out of stone,

Which is the search for Wisdom,

The 'Who am I?'. 'Tis thus alone

The Self will gain its freedom.

This must be crushed to finest dust

And ground up into fragments

As being the non-self, so must

We shatter our attachments.

 

Make poppadum and after making fry,

Eat, so your cravings you may satisfy.

 

Mix the juice of square-stemmed vine,

This association

With Holy Men. With this combine

Within the preparation

Some cummin-seed of mind-control

And pepper for restraining

The wayward senses, with them roll

That salt which is remaining

Indifferent to the world we see,

With condiment of leanings

Towards a virtuous unity.

These are their different meanings.

 

Make poppadum and after making fry,

Eat, so your cravings you may satisfy.

 

The mixture into dough now blend

And on the stone then place it

Of mind, by tendencies hardened,

And without ceasing baste it

With heavy strokes of the 'I-I'

Delivered with the pestle

Of introverted mind. Slowly

The mind will cease to wrestle.

Then roll out with the pin of peace

Upon the slab of Brahman.

Continue effort without cease

With energetic élan.

 

Make poppadum and after making fry,

Eat, so your cravings you may satisfy.

 

The poppadum or soul's now fit

To put into the fry-pan,

The one infinite symbol it

Of the great Silence, which can

Be first prepared by putting in

Some clarified fresh butter

Of the Supreme. And now begin

To heat it till it sputter,

On Wisdom's self-effulgent flame

Fry poppadum, 'I', as That.

Enjoying all alone the same;

Which bliss we ever aim at.

 

Make poppadum of self and after eat;

Of Perfect Peace then you will be replete.

 

--- End forwarded message ---