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Sunday Morning Moments of Zen…

February 5, 2012

….or the beauty of loose translations.

Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss’d
Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust
Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn
Are scatter’d, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.

FitzGerald’s Rubaiyat, XXV

To tonsured monks and dreadlocked Rastas,
To idol worshippers and idol smashers,
To fasting Jains and feasting Shaivites,
To Vedic pundits and Faber poets,
The weaver Kabir sends one message:
The noose of death hangs over all.
Only Rama’s name can save you.
Say it NOW.

Kabir, trans. Mehrotra

FitzGerald, Edward. The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. New York:
Collier Books, 1962.
Songs of Kabir. Trans. Arvind Krishna Mehrotra. New York: NY Review Classics, 2011.


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One Comment
  1. I don’t know where you found this poem, but I like it. Keep up the good work.

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