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JAIN JOURNAL
And forlorn, I know not what I do. Says Cidananda, I speak this once, But know it a thousand times.
Say not ‘piā', 'piā', 'pia' Oh Swallow, For, when I hear this sound from thy throat Overwhelmed am I. If still my heart breaks not, It has become hard as stone. My cruel love is one thing that grieves me, Who was won over by someone else by magic; But now, oh sinner bird, By chanting ‘piā', 'piā', 'piā’ Ye give me additional pain. When these words of thine enter my ears Restless becomes my mind, And pangs of separation are up. Cidananda says, my lord, By appearing at this moment Ye can win lasting fame.
OC
Traveller, night is closing fast. Wake, wake, give up thy sleep And see what is of worth is being stolen. Age is growing fast on thee And immense is the ocean of life and death. Take to thy heart This advice of mine, Says Cidananda, See Him by opening your inner eyes Who is all-conciousness.
1 a sweet singing bird. 2 a sound made by the bird but literally meaning ‘my love'. 3 as above.
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