Savitri – Eine Legende und ein Symbol. Sri Aurobindo

in her being’s space,

      Only sometimes small thoughts arose and fell

      Like quiet waves upon a silent sea

      Or ripples passing over a lonely pool

      When a stray stone disturbs its dreaming rest.

      Yet the mind’s factory had ceased to work,

      There was no sound of the dynamo’s throb,

      There came no call from the still fields of life.

      Then even those stirrings rose in her no more;

      Her mind now seemed like a vast empty room

      Or like a peaceful landscape without sound.

      This men call quietude and prize as peace.

      But to her deeper sight all yet was there,

      Effervescing like a chaos under a lid;

      Feelings and thoughts cried out for word and act

      But found no response in the silenced brain:

      All was suppressed but nothing yet expunged;

      At every moment might explosion come.

      Then this too paused; the body seemed a stone.

      All now was a wide mighty vacancy,

      But still excluded from eternity’s hush;

      For still was far the repose of the Absolute

      And the ocean silence of Infinity.

      Even now some thoughts could cross her solitude;

      These surged not from the depths or from within

      Cast up from formlessness to seek a form,

      Spoke not the body’s need nor voiced life’s call.

      These seemed not born nor made in human Time:

      Children of cosmic Nature from a far world,

      Idea’s shapes in complete armour of words

      Posted like travellers in an alien space.

      Out of some far expanse they seemed to come

      As if carried on vast wings like large white sails,

      And with easy access reached the inner ear

      As though they used a natural privileged right

      To the high royal entries of the soul.

      As yet their path lay deep-concealed in light.

      Then looking to know whence the intruders came

      She saw a spiritual immensity

      Pervading and encompassing the world-space

      As ether our transparent tangible air,

      And through it sailing tranquilly a thought.

      As smoothly glides a ship nearing its port,

      Ignorant of embargo and blockade,

      Confident of entrance and the visa’s seal,

      It came to the silent city of the brain

      Towards its accustomed and expectant quay,

      But met a barring will, a blow of Force

      And sank vanishing in the immensity.

      After a long vacant pause another appeared

      And others one by one suddenly emerged,

      Mind’s unexpected visitors from the Unseen

      Like far-off sails upon a lonely sea.

      But soon that commerce failed, none reached mind’s coast.

      Then all grew still, nothing moved any more:

      Immobile, self-rapt, timeless, solitary

      A silent spirit pervaded silent Space.

      In that absolute stillness bare and formidable

      There was glimpsed an all-negating Void Supreme

      That claimed its mystic Nihil’s sovereign right

      To cancel Nature and deny the soul.

      Even the nude sense of self grew pale and thin:

      Impersonal, signless, featureless, void of forms

      A blank pure consciousness had replaced the mind.

      Her spirit seemed the substance of a name,

      The world a pictured symbol drawn on self,

      A dream of images, a dream of sounds

      Built up the semblance of a universe

      Or lent to spirit the appearance of a world.

      This was self-seeing; in that intolerant hush

      No notion and no concept could take shape,

      There was no sense to frame the figure of things,

      A sheer self-sight was there, no thought arose.

      Emotion slept deep down in the still heart

      Or lay buried in a cemetery of peace:

      All feelings seemed quiescent, calm or dead,

      As if the heart-strings rent could work no more

      And joy and grief could never rise again.

      The heart beat on with an unconscious rhythm

      But no response came from it and no cry.

      Vain was the provocation of events;

      Nothing within answered an outside touch,

      No nerve was stirred and no reaction rose.

      Yet still her body saw and moved and spoke;

      It understood without the aid of thought,

      It said whatever needed to be said,

      It did whatever needed to be done.

      There was no person there behind the act,

      No mind that chose or passed the fitting word:

      All wrought like an unerring apt machine.

      As if continuing old habitual turns,

      And pushed by an old unexhausted force

      The engine did the work for which it was made:

      Her consciousness looked on and took no part;

      All it upheld, in nothing had a share.

      There was no strong initiator will;

      An incoherence crossing a firm void

      Slipped into an order of related chance.

      A pure perception was the only power

      That stood behind her action and her sight.

      If that retired, all objects would be extinct,

      Her private universe would cease to be,

      The house she had built with bricks of thought and sense

      In the beginning after the birth of Space.

      This seeing was identical with the seen;

      It knew without knowledge all that could be known,

      It saw impartially the world go by,

      But in the same supine unmoving glance

      Saw too its abysmal unreality.

      It watched the figure of the cosmic game,

      But the thought and inner life in forms seemed dead,

      Abolished