<-- Back
Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda

KALI THE MOTHER
     (Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol IV, P384)

The stars are blotted out,
       The clouds are covering clouds,
It is darkness vibrant, sonant.
       In the roaring, whirling wind
Are the souls of a million lunatics
       Just loose from the prison-house,
Wrenching trees by the roots,
       Sweeping all from the path.
The sea has joined the fray,
       And swirls up mountain-waves,
To reach the pitchy sky.
       The flash of lurid light
Reveals on every side
       A thousand, thousand shades
Of Death begrimed and black --
       Scattering plagues and sorrows,
Dancing mad with joy,
       Come, Mother, come!
For Terror is Thy name,
       Death is in Thy breath,
And every shaking step
       Destroys a world for e'er.
Thou "Time", the All-destroyer!
       Come, O Mother, come!
Who dares misery love,
       And hug the form of Death,
Dance in Destruction's dance,
       To him the Mother comes.
------------------------

ANGELS UNAWARES
     (Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol IV, P385)

I
One bending low with load of life --
That meant no joy, but suffering harsh and hard --
And wending on his way through dark and dismal paths
Without a flash of light from brain or heart
To give a moment's cheer, till the line
That marks out pain from pleasure, death from life,
And good from what is evil was well-nigh wiped from sight,
Saw, one blessed night, a faint but beautiful ray of light
Descend to him. He knew not what or wherefrom,
But called it God and worshipped.
Hope, an utter stranger, came to him and spread
Through all his parts, and life to him meant more
Than he could ever dream and covered all he knew,
Nay, peeped beyond his world. The Sages
Winked, and smiled, and called it "superstition".
But he did feel its power and peace
And gently answered back --
"O Blessed Superstition! "

II
One drunk with wine of wealth and power
And health to enjoy them both, whirled on
His maddening course, till the earth, he thought,
Was made for him, his pleasure-garden, and man,
The crawling worm, was made to find him sport,
Till the thousand lights of joy, with pleasure fed,
That flickered day and night before his eyes,
With constant change of colours, began to blur
His sight, and cloy his senses; till selfishness,
Like a horny growth, had spread all o'er his heart;
And pleasure meant to him no more than pain,
Bereft of feeling; and life in the sense,
So joyful, precious once, a rotting corpse between his arms,
Which he forsooth would shun, but more he tried, the more
It clung to him; and wished, with frenzied brain,
A thousand forms of death, but quailed before the charm,
Then sorrow came -- and Wealth and Power went -
And made him kinship find with all the human race
In groans and tears, and though his friends would laugh,
His lips would speak in grateful accents --
"O Blessed Misery!"

III
One born with healthy frame -- but not of will
That can resist emotions deep and strong,
Nor impulse throw, surcharged with potent strength -
And just the sort that pass as good and kind,
Beheld that he was safe, whilst others long
And vain did struggle 'gainst the surging waves.
Till, morbid grown, his mind could see, like flies
That seek the putrid part, but what was bad.
Then Fortune smiled on him, and his foot slipped.
That ope'd his eyes for e'er, and made him find
That stones and trees ne'er break the law,
But stones and trees remain; that man alone
Is blest with power to fight and conquer Fate,
Transcending bounds and laws.
From him his passive nature fell, and life appeared
As broad and new, and broader, newer grew,
Till light ahead began to break, and glimpse of That
Where Peace Eternal dwells -- yet one can only reach
By wading through the sea of struggles -- courage-giving, came.
Then looking back on all that made him kin
To stocks and stones, and on to what the world
Had shunned him for, his fall, he blessed the fall,
And with a joyful heart, declared it --
"O Blessed Sin!"
------------------------

HOLD ON YET A WHILE, BRAVE HEART
     (Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol IV, P389)

If the sun by the cloud is hidden a bit,
If the welkin shows but gloom,
Still hold on yet a while, brave heart,
The victory is sure to come.

No winter was but summer came behind,
Each hollow crests the wave,
They push each other in light and shade;
Be steady then and brave.

The duties of life are sore indeed,
And its pleasures fleeting, vain,
The goal so shadowy seems and dim,
Yet plod on through the dark, brave heart,
With all thy might and main.

Not a work will be lost, no struggle vain,
Though hopes be blighted, powers gone;
Of thy loins shall come the heirs to all,
Then hold on yet a while, brave soul,
No good is e'er undone.

Though the good and the wise in life are few,
Yet theirs are the reins to lead,
The masses know but late the worth;
Heed none and gently guide.

With thee are those who see afar,
With thee is the Lord of might,
All blessings pour on thee, great soul,
To thee may all come right!
------------------------

THE SONG OF THE SANNYASIN
     (Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol IV, P392)

Wake up the note! the song that had its birth
Far off, where worldly taint could never reach,
In mountain caves and glades of forest deep,
Whose calm no sigh for lust or wealth or fame
Could ever dare to break; where rolled the stream
Of knowledge, truth, and bliss that follows both.
Sing high that note, Sannyasin bold! Say --
"Om Tat Sat, Om!"

Strike off thy fetters! Bonds that bind thee down,
Of shining gold, or darker, baser ore;
Love, hate -- good, bad -- and all the dual throng,
Know, slave is slave, caressed or whipped, not free;
For fetters, though of gold, are not less strong to bind;
Then off with them, Sannyasin bold! Say --
"Om Tat Sat, Om!"

Let darkness go; the will-o'-the-wisp that leads
With blinking light to pile more gloom on gloom.
This thirst for life, for ever quench; it drags
From birth to death, and death to birth, the soul.
He conquers all who conquers self. Know this
And never yield, Sannyasin bold! Say --
"Om Tat Sat, Om!"

"Who sows must reap," they say, "and cause must bring
The sure effect; good, good; bad, bad; and none
Escape the law. But whoso wears a form
Must wear the chain." Too true; but far beyond
Both name and form is Atman, ever free.
Know thou art That, Sannyasin bold! Say --
"Om Tat Sat, Om!"

They know not truth who dream such vacant dreams
As father, mother, children, wife, and friend.
The sexless Self! whose father He? whose child?
Whose friend, whose foe is He who is but One?
The Self is all in all, none else exists;
And thou art That, Sannyasin bold! Say --
"Om Tat Sat, Om!"

There is but One -- the Free -- the Knower -- self!
Without a name, without a form or stain.
In Him is Maya dreaming all this dream.
The witness, He appears as nature, soul.
Know thou art That, Sannyasin bold! Say --
"Om Tat Sat, Om!"

Where seekest thou? That freedom, friend, this world
Nor that can give. In books and temples vain
Thy search. Thine only is the hand that holds
The rope that drags thee on. Then cease lament,
Let go thy hold, Sannyasin bold! Say --
"Om Tat Sat, Om!"

Say, "Peace to all: From me no danger be
To aught that lives. In those that dwell on high.
In those that lowly creep, I am the Self in all!
All life both here and there, do I renounce,
All heavens and earths and hells, all hopes and fears."
Thus cut thy bonds, Sannyasin bold! Say --
"Om Tat Sat, Om!"

Heed then no more how body lives or goes,
Its task is done. Let Karma float it down;
Let one put garlands on, another kick
This frame; say naught. No praise or blame can be
Where praiser praised, and blamer blamed are one.
Thus be thou calm, Sannyasin bold! Say --
"Om Tat Sat, Om!"

Truth never comes where lust and fame and greed
Of gain reside. No man who thinks of woman
As his wife can ever perfect be;
Nor he who owns the least of things, nor he
Whom anger chains, can ever pass thro' Maya's gates.
So, give these up, Sannyasin bold! Say --
"Om Tat Sat, Om!"

Have thou no home. What home can hold thee, friend?
The sky thy roof, the grass thy bed; and food
What chance may bring, well cooked or ill, judge not.
No food or drink can taint that noble Self
Which knows Itself. Like rolling river free
Thou ever be, Sannyasin bold! Say --
"Om Tat Sat, Om!"

Few only know the truth. The rest will hate
And laugh at thee, great one; but pay no heed.
Go thou, the free, from place to place, and help
Them out of darkness, Maya's veil. Without
The fear of pain or search for pleasure, go
Beyond them both, Sannyasin bold! Say --
"Om Tat Sat, Om!"

Thus, day by day, till Karma's powers spent
Release the soul for ever. No more is birth,
Nor I, nor thou, nor God, nor man. The "I"
Has All become, the All is "I" and Bliss.
Know thou art That, Sannyasin bold! Say --
"Om Tat Sat, Om!"
------------------------

TO A FRIEND
     (Original in Bengali; Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol IV, P493)

Where darkness is interpreted as light,
Where misery passes for happiness,
Where disease is pretended to be health,
Where the new - born's cry but shows 'tis alive;
Dost thou, O wise, expect happiness here?
Where war and competition ceaseless run,
Even the father turns against the son,
Where "self", "self"-- this always the only note,
Dost thou, O wise, seek for peace supreme here?
A glaring mixture of heaven and hell,
Who can fly from this Samsar* of Maya?
Fastened in the neck with Karma's fetters,
Say, where can the slave escape for safety?

The paths of Yoga and of sense - enjoyment,
The life of the householder and Sannyas,
Devotion, worship, and earning riches,
Vows, Tyaga, and austerities severe,
I have seen through them all. What have I known?
-- have known there's not a jot of happiness,
Life is only a cup of Tantalus;
The nobler is your heart, know for certain,
The more must be your share of misery.

Thou large - hearted Lover unselfish, know,
There's no room in this sordid world for thee;
Can a marble figure e'er brook the blow
That an iron mass can afford to bear?
Couldst thou be as one inert and abject,
Honey-mouthed, but with poison in thy heart,
Destitute of truth and worshipping self,

Then thou wouldst have a place in this Samsar.
Pledging even life for gaining knowledge,
I have devoted half my days on earth;
For the sake of love, even as one insane,
I have often clutched at shadows lifeless;
For religion, many creeds have I sought,

Lived in mountain - caves, on cremation - grounds,
By the Ganga and other sacred streams,
And how many days have I passed on alms!
Friendless, clad in rags, with no possession,
Feeding from door to door on what chance would bring.

The frame broken under Tapasya's [of austerities] weight;
What riches, ask thou, have I earned in life?
Listen, friend, I will speak my heart to thee;
I have found in my life this truth supreme --

Buffeted by waves, in this whirl of life,
There's one ferry that takes across the sea [The sea of Samsara].
Formulas of worship, control of breath,
Science, philosophy, systems varied,
Relinquishment, possession, and the life,
All these are but delusions of the mind --

Love, Love -- that's the one thing, the sole treasure.
In Jiva and Brahman, in man and God,
In ghosts, and wraiths, and spirits, and so forth,

In Devas, beasts, birds, insects, and in worms,
This Prema [Love] dwells in the heart of them all.
Say, who else is the highest God of gods?
Say, who else moves all the universe?
The mother dies for her young, robber robs --
Both are but the impulse of the same Love!
Beyond the ken of human speech and mind,
It dwells in weal and woe; 'tis that which comes

As the all - powerful, all - destroyer
Kali, and as the kindliest mother.
Disease, bereavement, pinch of poverty,
Dharma [Virtue], and its opposite Adharma [Vice],

Are but ITS worship in manifold modes;
Say, what does by himself a Jiva do?
Deluded is he who happiness seeks,
Lunatic he who misery wishes,
Insane he too who fondly longs for death,
Immortality -- vain aspiration!

For, far, however far you may travel,
Mounted on the brilliant mental car,
'Tis the same ocean of the Samsar,
Happiness and misery whirling on.
Listen O Vihangam [Bird, here addressed to the bound soul], bereft of wings,
'Tis not the way to make good your escape;
Time and again you get blows, and collapse,
Why then attempt what is impossible?
Let go your vain reliance on knowledge,
Let go your prayers, offerings, and strength,

For Love selfless is the only resource;--
Lo, the insects teach, embracing the flame!
The base insect's blind, by beauty charmed,
Thy soul is drunken with the wine of Love;
O thou Lover true, cast into the fire
All thy dross of self, thy mean selfishness.
Say -- comes happiness e'er to a beggar?
What good being object of charity?

Give away, ne'er turn to ask in return,
Should there be the wealth treasured in thy heart.
Ay, born heir to the Infinite thou art,
Within the heart is the ocean of Love,
"Give", "Give away"-- whoever asks return,
His ocean dwindles down to a mere drop.
From highest Brahman to the yonder worm,
And to the very minutest atom,
Everywhere is the same God, the All-love;

Friend, offer mind, soul, body, at their feet.
These are His manifold forms before thee,
Rejecting them, where seekest thou for God?
Who loves all beings without distinction,
He indeed is worshipping best his God.
------------------------

AND LET SHYAMA DANCE THERE
     (Original in Bengali; Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol IV, P506)

Beaut'ous blossoms ravishing with perfume,
Swarms of maddened bees buzzing all around;
The silver moon -- a shower of sweet smile,
Which all the dwellers of heaven above
Shed lavishly upon the homes of earth;
The soft Malaya¹ breeze, whose magic touch
Opens to view distant memory's folds;
Murmuring rivers and brooks, rippling lakes
With restless Bhramaras² wheeling over
Gently waving lotuses unnumbered;
Foaming flow cascades -- a streaming music --
To which echo mountain caves in return;
Warblers, full of sweet-flowing melody,
Hidden in leaves, pour hearts out -- love discourse;
The rising orb of day, the painter divine,
With his golden brush but lightly touches
The canvas earth and a wealth of colours
Floods at once o'er the bosom of nature,
-- truly a museum of lovely hues --
Waking up a whole sea of sentiments.

The roll of thunder, the crashing of clouds,
War of elements spreading earth and sky;
Darkness vomiting forth blinding darkness,
The Pralaya³ wind angrily roaring;
In quick bursts of dazzling splendour flashes
Blood - red terrific lightning, dealing death;
Monster waves roaring like thunder, foaming,
Rush impetuous to leap mountain peaks;
The earth booms furious, reels and totters,
Sinks down to its ruin, hurled from its place;
Piercing the ground, stream forth tremendous flames,
Mighty ranges blow up into atoms.

A lovely villa, on a lake of blue --
Festooned with clusters of water-lilies;
The heart-blood of ripe grapes capped with white foam
Whispering softly tells tale of passion;
The melody of the harp floods the ears,
And by its air, time, and harmony rich,
Enhances desire in the breast of man;
What stirring of emotions! How many
Hot sighs of Love! And warm tears coursing down!
The Bimba⁴ - red lips of the youthful fair,
The two blue eyes -- two oceans of feelings;
The two hands eager to advance -- love's cage --
In which the heart, like a bird, lies captive.
The martial music bursts, the trumpets blow,
The ground shakes under the warriors' tread;
The roar of cannon, the rattle of guns,
Volumes of smoke, the gruesome battlefield,
The thundering artillery vomits fire
In thousand directions; shells burst and strike
Vital parts of the body; elephants
And horses mounted are blown up in space;
The earth trembles under this infernal dance;
A million heroes mounted on steeds
Charge and capture the enemy's ordnance,
Piercing through the smoke and shower of shells
And rain of bullets; forward goes the flag,
The emblem of victory, of heroism
With the blood, yet hot, streaming down the staff,
Followed by the rifles, drunk with war-spirit;
Lo! the ensign falls, but the flag proceeds
Onwards on the shoulder of another;
Under his feet swell heaps of warriors
Perished in battle; but he falters not.
The flesh hankers for contacts of pleasure,
The senses for enchanting strains of song,
The mind hungers for peals of laughter sweet,
The heart pants to reach realms beyond sorrow;
Say, who cares exchange the soothing moonlight
For the burning rays of the noontide sun?
The wretch whose heart is like the scorching sun,
-- even he fondly loves the balmy moon;
Indeed, all thirst for joy. Breathes there the wretch
Who hugs pain and sorrow to his bosom?
Misery in his cup of happiness,
Deadly venom in his drink of nectar,
Poison in his throat -- yet he clings to hope!
Lo! how all are scared by the Terrific,
None seek Elokeshi⁵ whose form is Death.
The deadly frightful sword, reeking with blood,
They take from Her hand, and put a lute instead!
Thou dreaded Kali, the All-destroyer,
Thou alone art true; Thy shadow's shadow
Is indeed the pleasant Vanamali.⁶
O Terrible Mother, cut quick the core,
Illusion dispel -- the dream of happiness,
Rend asunder the fondness for the flesh.

True, they garland Thee with skulls, but shrink back
In fright and call Thee, "O All-merciful!"
At Thy thunder peal of awful laughter,
At Thy nudeness -- for space is thy garment --
Their hearts sink down with terror, but they say,
"It is the demons that the Mother kills!"
They only pretend they wish to see Thee,
But when the time comes, at Thy sight they flee.
Thou art Death! To each and all in the world
Thou distributest the plague and disease
-- vessels of venom filled by Thine own hands.
O thou insane! Thou but cheatest thyself,
Thou dost not turn thy head lest thou behold,
Ay, the form terrible of the Mother.
Thou courtest hardship hoping happiness,
Thou wearest cloak of Bhakti and worship,
With mind full of achieving selfish ends.
The blood from the severed head of a kid
Fills thee with fear -- thy heart throbs at the sight --
Verily a coward! Compassionate⁷
Bless my soul! A strange state of things indeed!
To whom shall I tell the truth?-- who will see?
Free thyself from the mighty attraction --
The maddening wine of love, the charm of sex.
Break the harp! Forward, with the ocean's cry!

Drink tears, pledge even life -- let the body fall.
Awake, O hero! Shake off thy vain dreams,
Death stands at thy head -- does fear become thee?
A load of misery, true though it is --
This Becoming⁸ -- know this to be thy God!
His temple -- the Shmashan⁹ among corpses
And funeral pyres; unending battle --
That verily is His sacred worship;
Constant defeat -- let that not unnerve thee;
Shattered be little self, hope, name, and fame;
Set up a pyre of them and make thy heart
A burning-ground.
And let Shyama¹⁰ dance there.
------------------------

WHO KNOWS HOW MOTHER PLAYS!
     (Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol V, P438)

Perchance a prophet thou --
Who knows? Who dares touch
The depths where Mother hides
Her silent failless bolts!

Perchance the child had glimpse
Of shades, behind the scenes,
With eager eyes and strained,
Quivering forms -- ready
To jump in front and be
Events, resistless, strong.
Who knows but Mother, how,
And where, and when, they come?

Perchance the shining sage
Saw more than he could tell;
Who knows, what soul, and when,
The Mother makes Her throne?

What law would freedom bind?
What merit guide Her will,
Whose freak is greatest order,
Whose will resistless law?

To child may glories ope
Which father never dreamt;
May thousandfold in daughter
Her powers Mother store.
------------------------

MY PLAY IS DONE
     (Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol VI, P175)

Ever rising, ever falling with the waves of time,
still rolling on I go
From fleeting scene to scene ephemeral,
with life's currents' ebb and flow.
Oh! I am sick of this unending force;
these shows they please no more.
This ever running, never reaching,
nor e'en a distant glimpse of shore!
From life to life I'm waiting at the gates,
alas, they open not.
Dim are my eyes with vain attempt
to catch one ray long sought.
On little life's high, narrow bridge
I stand and see below
The struggling, crying, laughing throng.
For what? No one can know.
In front yon gates stand frowning dark,
and say: "No farther way,
This is the limit; tempt not Fate,
bear it as best you may;
Go, mix with them and drink this cup
and be as mad as they.
Who dares to know but comes to grief;
stop then, and with them stay."
Alas for me, I cannot rest.
This floating bubble, earth --
Its hollow form, its hollow name,
its hollow death and birth --
For me is nothing. How I long
to get beyond the crust
Of name and form! Ah! ope the gates;
to me they open must.
Open the gates of light, O Mother, to me Thy tired son.
I long, oh, long to return home!
Mother, my play is done.
You sent me out in the dark to play,
and wore a frightful mask;
Then hope departed, terror came,
and play became a task.
Tossed to and fro, from wave to wave
in this seething, surging sea
Of passions strong and sorrows deep,
grief is, and joy to be,
Where life is living death, alas! and death --
who knows but 'tis
Another start, another round of this old wheel
of grief and bliss?
Where children dream bright, golden dreams,
too soon to find them dust,
And aye look back to hope long lost
and life a mass of rust!
Too late, the knowledge age doth gain;
scarce from the wheel we're gone
When fresh, young lives put their strength
to the wheel, which thus goes on
From day to day and year to year.
'Tis but delusion's toy,
False hope its motor; desire, nave;
its spokes are grief and joy.
I go adrift and know not whither.
Save me from this fire!
Rescue me, merciful Mother, from floating with desire!
Turn not to me Thy awful face,
'tis more than I can bear.
Be merciful and kind to me,
to chide my faults forbear.
Take me, O Mother, to those shores
where strifes for ever cease;
Beyond all sorrows, beyond tears,
beyond e'en earthly bliss;
Whose glory neither sun, nor moon,
nor stars that twinkle bright,
Nor flash of lightning can express.
They but reflect its light.
Let never more delusive dreams
veil off Thy face from me.
My play is done, O Mother,
break my chains and make me free!
------------------------

THE CUP
     (Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol VI, P177)

This is your cup -- the cup assigned
to you from the beginning.
Nay, My child, I know how much
of that dark drink is your own brew
Of fault and passion, ages long ago,
In the deep years of yesterday, I know.

This is your road -- a painful road and drear.
I made the stones that never give you rest.
I set your friend in pleasant ways and clear,
And he shall come like you, unto My breast.
But you, My child, must travel here.

This is your task. It has no joy nor grace,
But it is not meant for any other hand,
And in My universe hath measured place,
Take it. I do not bid you understand.
I bid you close your eyes to see My face.
------------------------

A BENEDICTION
     (To Nivedita; Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol VI, P178)

The mother's heart, the hero's will,
The sweetness of the southern breeze,
The sacred charm and strength that dwell
On Aryan altars, flaming, free;
All these be yours, and many more
No ancient soul could dream before --
Be thou to India's future son
The mistress, servant, friend in one.
------------------------

THOU BLESSED DREAM
     (To Christine Greenstidel; Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol VIII, P168)

If things go ill or well --
If joy rebounding spreads the face,
Or sea of sorrow swells --
A play -- we each have part,
Each one to weep or laugh as may;
Each one his dress to don --
Its scenes, alternative shine and rain.

Thou dream, O blessed dream!
Spread far and near thy veil of haze,
Tone down the lines so sharp,
Make smooth what roughness seems.

No magic but in thee!
Thy touch makes desert bloom to life.
Harsh thunder, sweetest song,
Fell death, the sweet release.
------------------------

LIGHT
     (To Miss MacLeod; Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol VIII, P168)

I look behind and after
And find that all is right,
In my deepest sorrows
There is a soul of light.
------------------------

THE LIVING GOD
     (To American Friend; Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol VIII, P169)

He who is in you and outside you,
Who works through all hands,
Who walks on all feet,
Whose body are all ye,
Him worship, and break all other idols!

He who is at once the high and low,
The sinner and the saint,
Both God and worm,
Him worship -- visible, knowable, real, omnipresent,
Break all other idols!

In whom is neither past life
Nor future birth nor death,
In whom we always have been
And always shall be one,
Him worship. Break all other idols!

Ye fools! who neglect the living God,
And His infinite reflections with which the world is full.

While ye run after imaginary shadows,
That lead alone to fights and quarrels,
Him worship, the only visible!
Break all other idols!
------------------------

TO AN EARLY VIOLET
     (To Western Lady Disciple; Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol VIII, P169)

What though thy bed be frozen earth,
Thy cloak the chilling blast;
What though no mate to cheer thy path,
Thy sky with gloom o'ercast;

What though if love itself doth fail,
Thy fragrance strewed in vain;
What though if bad o'er good prevail,
And vice o'er virtue reign:

Change not thy nature, gentle bloom,
Thou violet, sweet and pure,
But ever pour thy sweet perfume
Unasked, unstinted, sure!
------------------------

TO MY OWN SOUL
     (Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol VIII, P170)

Hold yet a while, Strong Heart,
Not part a lifelong yoke
Though blighted looks the present, future gloom.

And age it seems since you and I began our
March up hill or down. Sailing smooth o'er
Seas that are so rare --
Thou nearer unto me, than oft-times I myself --
Proclaiming mental moves before they were!

Reflector true -- thy pulse so timed to mine,
Thou perfect note of thoughts, however fine --
Shall we now part, Recorder, say?

In thee is friendship, faith,
For thou didst warn when evil thoughts were brewing --
And though, alas, thy warning thrown away,
Went on the same as ever -- good and true.
------------------------

NO ONE TO BLAME
     (Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol VIII, P175)

The sun goes down, its crimson rays
Light up the dying day;
A startled glance I throw behind
And count my triumph shame;
No one but me to blame.

Each day my life I make or mar,
Each deed begets its kind,
Good good, bad bad, the tide once set
No one can stop or stem;
No one but me to blame.

I am my own embodied past;
Therein the plan was made;
The will, the thought, to that conform,
To that the outer frame;
No one but me to blame.

Love comes reflected back as love,
Hate breeds more fierce hate,
They mete their measures, lay on me
Through life and death their claim;
No one but me to blame.

I cast off fear and vain remorse,
I feel my Karma's sway
I face the ghosts my deeds have raised --
Joy, sorrow, censure, fame;
No one but me to blame.

Good, bad, love, hate, and pleasure, pain
Forever linked go,
I dream of pleasure without pain,
It never, never came;
No one but me to blame.

I give up hate, I give up love,
My thirst for life is gone;
Eternal death is what I want,
Nirvanam goes life's flame;
No one is left to blame.

One only man, one only God, one ever perfect soul,
One only sage who ever scorned the dark and dubious ways,
One only man who dared think and dared show the goal --
That death is curse, and so is life, and best when stops to be.

Om Nama Bhagavate Sambuddhaya
Om, I salute the Lord, the awakened.
------------------------

AN UNFINISHED POEM
     (Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol IX, P304)

From life to life I am waiting here at the gates--they
open not.
My tongue is parched with ceaseless prayers and dim
my eyes have grown
With constant straining through the gloom to catch
one ray long sought;
My heart is seized with dark despair, all hope well-
nigh has flown
------

And standing on life's narrow ridge, beneath the
chasm I see-
Strife and sorrow, darkness deep of whirling life and
death,
Of mad commotion, struggles vain, of folly roaming
free.

On one side this dark abyss--I shudder to see it even-
On the other this wall . . .
------------------------

1 A fabulous Sandal-wood mountain in the South. Hence, Malaya breeze means a fragrant breeze from the South.
2 A beetle somewhat like a bumble-bee, which lives solely on honey.
3 The time of cosmic destruction.
4 A kind of fruit of a rich red colour.
5 She with untied hair, a name of Kali, the Divine Mother of the Universe.
6 Literally, he who is garlanded with wild flowers. The Shepherd Krishna in His aspect of youthful sport.
7 The idea is that the brave alone can be compassionate, and not the coward.
8 The wheel of constant birth and death, hence the world.
9 The cremation-ground.
10 The Dark One, Kali.

----------- Om Tat Sat -----------