Book SevenThe Book of Yoga Canto One The Joy of Union; The Ordeal of the Foreknowledge of Death and the Heart's Grief Fate followed her foreseen immutable road. Man's hopes and longings build the journeying wheels That bear the body of his destiny And lead his blind will towards an unknown goal. His fate within him shapes his acts and rules; Its face and form already are born in him, Its parentage is in his secret soul; Here Matter seems to mould the body's life And the soul follows where its nature drives: Nature and Fate compel his free-will's choice. But greater spirits this balance can reverse And ma

Letters on “Savitri” 1 There is a previous draft, the result of the many retouchings of which somebody told you; but in that form it would not have been a "magnum opus" at all. Besides, it would have been a legend and not a symbol. I therefore started recasting the whole thing; only the best passages and lines of the old draft will remain, altered so as to fit into the new frame. No, I do not work at the poem once a week; I have other things to do. Once a month perhaps, I look at the new form of the first book and make such changes as inspiration points out to me — so that nothing shall fall below the minimum height which I have fixed for it. —1931

Book Five The Book of Love Canto One The Destined Meeting-Place But now the destined spot and hour were close; Unknowing she had neared her nameless goal. For though a dress of blind and devious chance Is laid upon the work of all-wise Fate, Our acts interpret an omniscient Force That dwells in the compelling stuff of things, And nothing happens in the cosmic play But at its time and in its foreseen place. To a space she came of soft and delicate air That seemed a sanctuary of youth and joy, A h

Book Twelve Epilogue Epilogue The Return to Earth Out of abysmal trance her spirit woke. Lain on the earth-mother's calm inconscient breast She saw the green-clad branches lean above Guarding her sleep with their enchanted life, And overhead a blue-winged ecstasy Fluttered from bough to bough with high-pitched call. Into the magic secrecy of the woods Peering through an emerald lattice-window of leaves, In indolent skies reclined, the thinning day Turned to its slow fall into evening's peace. She pressed the living body of Satyavan: On her body's wordless joy to be and breathe She bore the blissful burden

Book EightThe Book of Death Canto Three* Death in the Forest Now it was here in this great golden dawn By her still sleeping husband lain she gazed Into her past as one about to die Looks back upon the sunlit fields of life Where he too ran and sported with the rest, Lifting his head above the huge dark stream Into whose depths he must for ever plunge. All she had been and done she lived again. The whole year in a swift and eddying race Of memories swept through her and fled away Into the irrecoverable past. Then silently she rose and, service done, Bowed down to the great goddess simply carved By Satyava

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, death to an emptier death, 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 while it grew

Canto Two The Way of Fate and the Problem of Pain A silence sealed the irrevocable decree, The word of Fate that fell from the heavenly lips Fixing a doom no power could ever reverse Unless heaven's will itself could change its course. Or so it seemed; yet from the silence rose One voice that questioned changeless destiny. A will that strove against the immutable Will, A mother's heart had heard the fateful speech That rang like a sanction to the call of death And came like a chill c

Canto Two The Parable of the Search for the Soul As in the vigilance of the sleepless night Through the slow heavy-footed silent hours, Repressing in her bosom its load of grief, She sat staring at the dumb tread of Time And the approach of ever-nearing Fate, A summons from her being's summit came, A sound, a call that broke the seals of Night. Above her brows where will and knowledge meet A m

Canto Three The Entry into the Inner Countries At first out of the busy hum of mind As if from a loud thronged market into a cave By an inward moment's magic she had come, A stark hushed emptiness became her self: Her mind unvisited by the voice of thought Stared at a void deep's dumb infinity. Her heights receded, her depths behind her closed; All fled away from her and left her blank. But when she came back to her self of thought, Once more she was a human thing on earth, A lump of Matter, a house of closed sight, A mind compelled to think out ignorance, A life-force pressed into a camp o