Savitri – Eine Legende und ein Symbol. Sri Aurobindo

the inconscient Void.

      I only am eternal and endure.

      I am the shapeless formidable Vast,

      I am the emptiness that men call Space,

      I am a timeless Nothingness carrying all,

      I am the Illimitable, the mute Alone.

      I, Death, am He; there is no other God.

      All from my depths are born, they live by death;

      All to my depths return and are no more.

      I have made a world by my inconscient Force.

      My Force is Nature that creates and slays

      The hearts that hope, the limbs that long to live.

      I have made man her instrument and slave,

      His body I made my banquet, his life my food.

      Man has no other help but only Death;

      He comes to me at his end for rest and peace.

      I, Death, am the one refuge of thy soul.

      The Gods to whom man prays can help not man;

      They are my imaginations and my moods

      Reflected in him by illusion’s power.

      That which thou seest as thy immortal self

      Is a shadowy icon of my infinite,

      Is Death in thee dreaming of eternity.

      I am the Immobile in which all things move,

      I am the nude Inane in which they cease:

      I have no body and no tongue to speak,

      I commune not with human eye and ear;

      Only thy thought gave a figure to my void.

      Because, O aspirant to divinity,

      Thou calledst me to wrestle with thy soul,

      I have assumed a face, a form, a voice.

      But if there were a Being witnessing all,

      How should he help thy passionate desire?

      Aloof he watches sole and absolute,

      Indifferent to thy cry in nameless calm.

      His being is pure, unwounded, motionless, one.

      One endless watches the inconscient scene

      Where all things perish, as the foam the stars.

      The One lives for ever. There no Satyavan

      Changing was born and there no Savitri

      Claims from brief life her bribe of joy. There love

      Came never with his fretful eyes of tears,

      Nor Time is there nor the vain vasts of Space.

      It wears no living face, it has no name,

      No gaze, no heart that throbs; it asks no second

      To aid its being or to share its joys.

      It is delight immortally alone.

      If thou desirest immortality,

      Be then alone sufficient to thy soul:

      Live in thyself; forget the man thou lov’st.

      My last grand death shall rescue thee from life;

      Then shalt thou rise into thy unmoved source.”

      But Savitri replied to the dread Voice:

      “O Death, who reasonest, I reason not,

      Reason that scans and breaks, but cannot build

      Or builds in vain because she doubts her work.

      I am, I love, I see, I act, I will.”

      Death answered her, one deep surrounding cry:

      “Know also. Knowing, thou shalt cease to love

      And cease to will, delivered from thy heart.

      So shalt thou rest for ever and be still,

      Consenting to the impermanence of things.”

      But Savitri replied for man to Death:

      “When I have loved for ever, I shall know.

      Love in me knows the truth all changings mask.

      I know that knowledge is a vast embrace:

      I know that every being is myself,

      In every heart is hidden the myriad One.

      I know the calm Transcendent bears the world,

      The veiled Inhabitant, the silent Lord:

      I feel his secret act, his intimate fire;

      I hear the murmur of the cosmic Voice.

      I know my coming was a wave from God.

      For all his suns were conscient in my birth,

      And one who loves in us came veiled by death.

      Then was man born among the monstrous stars

      Dowered with a mind and heart to conquer thee.”

      In the eternity of his ruthless will

      Sure of his empire and his armoured might,

      Like one disdaining violent helpless words

      From victim lips Death answered not again.

      He stood in silence and in darkness wrapped,

      A figure motionless, a shadow vague,

      Girt with the terrors of his secret sword.

      Half-seen in clouds appeared a sombre face;

      Night’s dusk tiara was his matted hair,

      The ashes of the pyre his forehead’s sign.

      Once more a wanderer in the unending Night,

      Blindly forbidden by dead vacant eyes,

      She travelled through the dumb unhoping vasts.

      Around her rolled the shuddering waste of gloom,

      Its swallowing emptiness and joyless death

      Resentful of her thought and life and love.

      Through the long fading night by her compelled,

      Gliding half-seen on their unearthly path,

      Phantasmal in the dimness moved the three.

      End of Canto Two

      End of Book Nine

      BOOK TEN

The Book of the Double Twilight

      Canto One

      The Dream Twilight of the Ideal

      All still was darkness dread and desolate;

      There was no change nor any hope of change.

      In this black dream which was a house of Void,

      A walk to Nowhere in a land of Nought,

      Ever they drifted without aim or goal;

      Gloom led to worse gloom, depth to an emptier depth,

      In some positive Non-being’s purposeless Vast

      Through formless wastes dumb and unknowable.

      An ineffectual beam of suffering light

      Through the despairing darkness dogged their steps

      Like the remembrance of a glory lost;

      Even