In this mortal world
We are all covered by a veil.
In light and shadow
Sometimes she saw me face to face
Sometimes she guessed
Mixing with her own hopes and desires
Her own taste
She joined these splinters
And made my whole image
Time and again its outlines
She also erased
And redrew me to see me anew
Having played all her living days
With my true and false image
She has passed away.
When alone I think today
Now beyond the grave
If she gets a divine vision
And from her illusions she is suddenly freed
Will she recognize me
Seeing me in a new form?
Once I was shrouded in some mystery
As was she
Seeing me more clearly now
Will she create my image in her accustomed way
Will she now love me?
Alas, alas O human race
Full light is for the apocalypse
But creation is a trick and a tapestry
Of light and shade
With our illusions
Both of us built our own playroom
We lived in heavenly bliss
In this imperfect and mortal world
We enjoyed immortal love
Perfection is so cruel
It is naked and dead.
Transcreation of the poem Nirabrita from the collection Parishesh by Rabindranath Tagore.
