Mirabai (1498–1546) was a Hindu Mystic poet and devotee of the god Krishna.
A COWHERDING GIRL
Mirabai
The plums tasted
sweet to the unlettered desert-tribe girl-
but what manners! To chew into each! She was ungainly,
low-caste, ill mannered and dirty,
but the god took the
fruit she’d been sucking.
Why? She’d knew how to love.
She might not distinguish
splendor from filth
but she’d tasted the nectar of passion.
Might not know any Veda,
but a chariot swept her away-
now she frolics in heaven, esctatically bound
to her god.
The Lord of Fallen Fools, says Mira,
will save anyone
who can practice rapture like that-
I myself in a previous birth
was a cowherding girl
at Gokul.
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DRINK THE NECTAR
Mirabai
Drink the nectar of the Divine Name, O human!
Drink the nectar of the Divine Name!
Leave the bad company, always sit among righteous company.
Hearken to the mention of God (for your own sake).
Concupiscence, anger, pride, greed, attachment:
wash these out of your consciousness.
Mira’s Lord is the Mountain-Holder, the suave lover.
Soak yourself in the dye of His color.
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I AM MAD WITH LOVE
Mirabai
I am mad with love
And no one understands my plight.
Only the wounded
Understand the agonies of the wounded,
When the fire rages in the heart.
Only the jeweller knows the value of the jewel,
Not the one who lets it go.
In pain I wander from door to door,
But could not find a doctor.
Says Mira: Harken, my Master,
Mira’s pain will subside
When Shyam comes as the doctor.
========
I HAVE FOUND MY GURU
Mirabai
I have found a guru in Raidas, he has
given me the pill of knowledge.
I lost the honor of the royal family, I
went astray with the sadhus.
I constantly rise up, go to God’s
temple, and dance, snapping my
fingers.
I don’t follow the norms as an oldest
daughter-in-law, I have thrown
away the veil.
I have taken refuge with the great
guru, and snapped my fingers at
the consequences.
=======
LOVE HAS STAINED
Mirabai
Love has stained my body
to the color of the One Who Holds Up Mountains.
When I dressed in the world’s five fabrics,
I only played hide and seek—
For disguised though I was, the Lifting One caught me.
And seeing his beauty, I offered him all that I am.
Friends, let those whose Beloved is absent write letters—
Mine dwells in the heart, and neither enters nor leaves.
Mira has given herself to her Lord Giridhara.
Day or night, she serves only Him.
— Translated by Jane Hirshfield
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MINE IS GOPAL
Mirabai
Mine Is Gopal
Mine is Gopal, the Mountain-Holder; there is no one else.
On his head he wears the peacock-crown: He alone is my husband.
Father, mother, brother, relative: I have none to call my own.
I’ve forsaken both God, and the family’s honor: what should I do?
I’ve sat near the holy ones, and I’ve lost shame before the people.
I’ve torn my scarf into shreds; I’m all wrapped up in a blanket.
I took off my finery of pearls and coral, and strung a garland of wildwood flowers.
With my tears, I watered the creeper of love that I planted;
Now the creeper has grown spread all over, and borne the fruit of bliss.
The churner of the milk churned with great love.
When I took out the butter, no need to drink any buttermilk.
I came for the sake of love-devotion; seeing the world, I wept.
Mira is the maidservant of the Mountain-Holder:
Now with love He takes me across to the further shore.
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MIRA’S COLORS
Mirabai
I’m dyed dark with him.
I dressed up
put on ankle-bells
gave up on shame
danced
I’ve taken on his deep hue.
I took up with mystics
got called perverse
was faithful, true, in my body
I’m colored with his colors.
I sang night and day
described his qualities
escaped time, death, snakes
His colors seep through me.
The whole world would taste bitter
without him
it would all be useless
I’m blue like my beloved.
Mira says, O Mountain-lifter, listen
I’m drenched in your sweetness
— Translated by Chloe Martinez
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O FRIENDS
Mirabai
O friends, I am mad
with love, and no one sees.
My mattress is a sword-point,
how can I sleep
when the bed of my Beloved
is spread open elsewhere?
Only those who have felt the knife
can understand the wound,
only the jeweler
knows the nature of the Jewel.
I have lost it,
and though anguish takes me door to door
no doctor answers.
Mira calls her Lord: O Dark One,
Only You can heal this pain.
— Translated by Jane Hirshfield
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SLEEP
Mirabai
Sleep has not visited me the whole night,
Will the dawn ever come?
O my companion,
Once I awoke with a start from a dream.
Now the remembrance from that vision
Never fades.
My life is ebbing as I choke and sigh,
When will the Lord of the Afflicted come
I have lost my senses and gone mad,
But the Lord knows my secret.
He who deals out life and death
knows the secret of Mira’s pain.