ONE SHRINE TO THE NEXT, THE HERMIT CANNOT STOP FOR BREATH
by Lalla
English version by Ranjit Hoskote
Original Language Kashmiri
One shrine to the next, the hermit can't stop for breath.
Soul, get this! You should have looked in the mirror.
Going on a pilgrimage is like falling in love
with the greenness of faraway grass.
English version by Ranjit Hoskote
Original Language Kashmiri
One shrine to the next, the hermit can't stop for breath.
Soul, get this! You should have looked in the mirror.
Going on a pilgrimage is like falling in love
with the greenness of faraway grass.
SHRINES
author unknown
The shrines of old are broken down;
the faiths that knelt at them are dead.
Nothing’s strange, and nought unknown:
all’s been done and all been said.
Tired of knowledge, now we sigh for a little mystery.
Yet, howsoever science delves,
a few things still unplumbed remain.
We know all things save ourselves,
cannot will our joy or pain.
Mysteries our hearts enthral;
and love’s the strangest of them all.
The shrines of old are broken down;
the faiths that knelt at them are dead.
Nothing’s strange, and nought unknown:
all’s been done and all been said.
Tired of knowledge, now we sigh for a little mystery.
Yet, howsoever science delves,
a few things still unplumbed remain.
We know all things save ourselves,
cannot will our joy or pain.
Mysteries our hearts enthral;
and love’s the strangest of them all.
