The Creative Ideal
Essays
IN AN OLD Sanskrit book there is a verse which describes the essential elements of a picture. The first in order is Viupa-bhedah - 'separateness of forms.' Forms are many, forms are different, each of them having its limits. But if this were absolute, if all forms remained obstinately separate, then there would be a fearful loneliness of multitude. But the varied forms, in their very separateness, must carry something which indicates the paradox of their ultimate unity, otherwise there would be no creation.
So in the same verse, after the enumeration of separateness comes that of Pramanani - proportions. Proportions indicate relationship, the principle of mutual accommodation. A leg dismembered from the body has the fullest licence to make a caricature of itself. But, as a member of the body, it has its
Oh, fly not Pleasure, pleasant-hearted Pleasure,
Fold me thy wings, I prithee, yet and stay,
For my heart no measure
Knows, nor other treasure
To buy a garland for my love to-day
And thou too, Sorrow, tender-hearted Sorrow,
Thou grey-eyed mourner, fly not yet away.
For I fain would borrow
Thy sad weeds to-morrow,
To make a mourning for love's yesterday.
Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November.
And wilt thou leave me thus?
Say nay, say nay, for shame!
To save thee from the blame
Of all my grief and grame.
And wilt thou leave me thus?
Say nay! say nay!
The sun,
Closing his benediction,
Sinks, and the darkening air
Thrills with the sense of the triumphing night, -
Night with her train of stars
And her great gift of sleep.
So be my passing!
My task accomplished and the long day done,
My wages taken, and in my heart
Some late lark singing,
Let me be gathered to the quiet West,
The sundown splendid and serene,
Death.
Hark! ah, the nightingale-
The tawny-throated!
Hark, from that moonlit cedar what a burst!
What triumph! hark! - what pain!
How thick the bursts come crowding through the leaves!
Eternal Passion!
Eternal Pain!
Where were your songs, my bird, when you spent your nights in the nest?
Was not all your pleasure stored therein?
What makes you lose your heart to the sky, the sky that is limitless?
I had my pleasure while I rested within bounds.
When I soared into the limitless, I found my songs!
আরো দেখুন