All poems in English including sonnets, lyrical poems, narrative poems, and metrical experiments in various forms.
Poems
This volume consists of all poems in English including sonnets, lyrical poems, narrative poems, and metrical experiments in various forms. All such poems published by Sri Aurobindo during his lifetime are included here, as well as poems found among his manuscripts after his passing. Sri Aurobindo worked on these poems over the course of seven decades. The first one was published in 1883 when he was ten; a number of poems were written or revised more than sixty years later, in the late 1940s.
THEME/S
Nala, Nishadha's king, paced by a stream Which ran, escaping from the solitudes To flow through gardens in a pleasant land. Murmuring it came of the green souls of hills And of the towns and hamlets it had seen, The brown-limbed peasants toiling in the sun, And the tired bullocks in the thirsty fields. In its bright talk and laughter it recalled The moonlight and the lapping dangerous tongues, The sunlight and the skimming wings of birds, And gurgling jars, and bright bathed limbs of girls At morning, and its noons and lonely eves. This memory to the jasmine trees it sang Which dropped their slow white petalled kisses down Upon its haste of curling waves. Far off A mountain rose, alone and purple vague, Wide-watching from its large stone-lidded eye The drowsy noontide earth; vastly outspread Like Vindhya changed, against the height of heaven It stood and on the deep-blue nearness leaned Its shoulder in a mighty indolence. Reclined for giant rest the Titan paused. The birds were voiceless on the unruffled boughs; The spotted lizard in a dull unease Basked on his sentinel stone, a single kite Circled above; white-headed over rust Of brown and gold he stained the purple noon. Solitary in the spaces of his mind Among these sights and sounds King Nala paced Oblivious of the joy of outward things. Shrill and dissatisfied the wanderer's cry Came to his ear; he saw with absent eyes The rapid waters in their ripple run Nor marked the ruddy sprouting of the leaves, Nor heard the dove's rare cooing in the trees.
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His thoughts were with a face his dreams had seen Diviner than the jasmine's moon-flaked glow; He listened to a name his dreams had learned Sweeter than passion of the crooning bird. Its delicate syllables yearning through his mind Repeated longingly the soft-wreathed call, As if some far-off bright forgotten queen From whom his heart had wandered through the world, Were summoning back to her her truant thrall, Luring him with the music of her name. But soon some look on him he seemed to feel. The summit self-uplifted to the sky Mounting the air in act to climb and join Heaven's sapphire longing with earth's green unease Drew his far gaze, which conned as for a thought The undecipherable charactery Of rocks and mingled woods; but all was lost In too much light. Dull glared the giant stones; The woods, fallen sleepy on their mountain couch, Had nestled in their coverlet of haze. Like dim-seen shapes of virgins stoled in blue In huddled grace sleeping close-limbed they lay. Then from some covert bosom's shrouded riches A revelation came; for like a gleam Of beauty from a purple-guarded breast One lovely glint of passionate whiteness broke. Fluttering awhile towards him soon it fled Seeking his vision; and its glowing race Splintered the sapphire with its silvery hue, And now a flame-bright flock of swans was seen Flying like one and breasting with its shock Of faery speed the vastness of the noon. Not only with an argent flashing ran The brilliant cohort on its skiey path, But shaking from wild wings a hail of gold. Heaven's lustrous tunic of transparent air Regretted the bright ornament as they passed.
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They flew not like the snowy cranes, like wreaths Of flowers driven in the rain-wind's breath, When thunder calls them northward, but came fast Ranked in magnificent and lovely lines, Cleaving the air with splendour, while the pride And rushing glory of their bosoms and wings Assailed his eyes with silver and with flame. Over the Nishadhan gardens flying round They came down whirring softly, then filled awhile With gentle clamour from their liquid throats The region, and disturbed with dipping plumes The turquoise slumber of the motionless lake Lulled to unrippling rest by windless noon. A hundred wonderful shapes in mystic crowd Covered the water like a living robe. Next on the stream they spread their glorious breasts. Each close-ranked by her sweet companion's side, Floating they came and preened above the flood Their long and stately necks like curving flowers. The water petted with enamoured waves Their bosoms and the slow air swooned along Their wings; their motion set a wordless chant To flow against the chidings of the stream. And hard to speak their beauty, what silver mass On mass, what flakes and peacock-eyes of gold, What passion of crimson flecked each pure white breast. It seemed to his charmed sense that in this form The loveliness of a diviner world Had come to him winged. Their beauty to tender greed Moved him of all that living silver and gold.
"For now thy heaven-born pride must learn to range My gardens of the earth and haunt my streams, And to my call consent. If thou resist I will imprison thee in a golden cage And bind thy beauty with a silver chain." A laughter beautiful arose from her,
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Thrilling her throat with bubbling ecstasies, Sweet, satisfied because he praised her grace. And with mysterious mild deep-glowing eyes In long and softly-wreathing syllables The wonder spoke. "Release me, for no birds Are we, O mortal, but the moon-bosomed nymphs Who to the trance-heard music of the gods Sway in the mystic dances of the sky, Apsaras, daughters of the tumbling seas. Shaped by thy fancy is my white-winged form." But Nala to his bright prisoner swan replied: "And more thou doomst thyself by all thy words, Bird of desire or goddess luminous-limbed, To satisfy my pride and my delight, My divine captive and white-bosomed slave Who stoopst to me from unattainable heavens. Thou shalt possess my streams, O white-winged swan, And dance, O Apsara, singing in my halls. Between the illumined pillars thou shalt glide When flute and breathing lyre and timbrel call, Adorning with thy golden rhythmic limbs The crystalline mosaic of my floors. What I have seized by force, by force I keep." Her eyes now smiled on him; submissively She laid in all its tender curving grace The long white wonder of her neck upraised In suppliant wreaths against his bosom and pressed Flatteringly her silver head upon his cheek And with her soft alluring voice replied: "Because thou art bright and beautiful and bold So have I come to thee and thou hast seized Whom if thou hadst set free, thy joy were lost. So to thy mind from some celestial space A name and face have come, yet are on earth, Which if thou hadst not held with yearning's stays, Thy mortal life would have been given in vain. Forced by thy musing in the sapphire noon
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Out of the mountain's breast to thee I flew Unknowing, a heavenly envoy to her heart That was thy own by glad necessity Before its beatings in her breast began. All are the links of one miraculous chain."
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