A Captive of Her Love 101 pages
English
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A collection of letters, poems & paintings by Janina providing a glimpse of her inner life in 'Sri Aurobindo Ashram'. The Mother's comment on Janina is included.

A Captive of Her Love

This book is a collection of letters, poems and paintings by Janina Stroka, a Polish disciple of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother and a member of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry, India, from 1957 until her passing in 1964. Janina’s account of her life in Pondicherry in this book is divided into three parts. The main part of the text consists of extracts from letters written to a Dutch friend with whom Janina lived first in Palestine and later in Germany, from December 1957 to June 1958. The letters in the next section were written between 1960 and 1963 to a young Bengali, a writer and social worker. Next, the book contains selected poems and paintings by Janina and concludes with a comment by the Mother on Janina’s passing.

A Captive of Her Love 101 pages
English
 PDF    EPUB   

Selected Poems



The Service Tree at the Samadhi

O Thou faithful bearer of the rusty shields,
Holy Service Tree!
Thy fragrant blessings on my heart's praying fields...
Thanksgiving to thee.

O humble crown, green vigil of delight,
Guard proud of God,
Thy blessings-shields borne high by the flaming Knight,
High where no fighter has trod,

Are crushed into pollen of throbbing gold,
O vault of luminous shade,
Look! Bunches of blossoming lights behold!
And the shadows of old fade...

Rustling mystery-tale! Love with covered face
Bent over the New-born!
One day under the shield of diamond grace
Thy emerald visor will be torn.

July 1963



To My Lord Supreme

Never could I give my eyes to Thy Eyes light-giving,
Nor feel he touch of Thy Golden Hand's Grace,
Thy Hand's my Lord, while on earth Thou wast living -
Never could I prostrate myself before my Lord's Face.

But I loved Thee always and I was Thine
When with me in my anguished land Thou didst throw Thy Soul,
When to my tears in grief Thou didst chain Thy Cry.
Thou hast not forgotten, my Lord, I know.

And then, when the fierce pride of the Dark and its wrath
Into Thy cells Thou didst suck in to transform into Light,
That Light came shining on my sorrow path
Where fear, where pain were creeping, and despair of Night.

Now, in Thy Home, Thou hast taken me into Thy arms,
Near Thy Living Stone, at Thy feet, I can rest,
Like a tired worker who returns to his own home's charm,
Like a hunted bird that, at last , flies back into its nest.

Thee I thank, who in those woeful, darkest days
Didst kindle Hope Supreme with Thy receding Breath.
Thee I thank, whose Arms of Light, in rest,
Have strangled the approaching Death.

(5th - 9th December 1950)




Three Prayers

while waiting for Thee, Mother

1

While I was waiting for Thee, O Light,
To appear on the balcony,
I prayed:

Before the Lord descends in the first ray of Thy gaze,
O Mother, chase away the clouds that cover my soul
As Thou art lifting at dawn the mist-veil
From the immaculate face of that deep Black Lake
In my Tatry Mountains... 1

And then, when the Lord will come,
The luminous beam will pierce my bare being
Unto its very depths and fill it with bliss.
And the Lord will be pleased,
And He will look around Him on His happy property
At the bottom of my soul.

1. The Tatry mountains, the highest mountain range in Poland


2

While I was waiting for Thee before Thy Blessings,
Before my eyes would come near to Thine,
I prayed:

Mother, let my eyes lie still like those tranquil lakes
In my Tatry Mountains,
Immobile, spread before the Lord,
Crystal mirrors waiting...
Will he permit an offering to Him of His own face?

And then, when the Lord will come through Thy eyes all loving
To stoop over these two lakes of calm,
He will perceive Himself in their humble felicity.
And the Lord will be pleased,
And He will smile
Seeing His own eyes looking at Him.


3

While I am waiting for Thee in the lucid silence
Before the sacred hour of meditation,
I pray:

Fill, Mother, my cells with longing ecstasy,
The same that sparkles in all those lakes of beauty
In my Tatry Mountains,
When the last sun-drops caress them with glowing happiness
And when the Lord Himself is approaching after His long day's journey.

And then, when the Lord will come,
My whole being will be His luminous abode.
And the Lord will be pleased.
he will sigh with delight.
He will rest and take off His sandals
And wash His feet in the radiant waters.

May 1964









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