Manas by Alfred Döblin

Author:Alfred Döblin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Galileo
Published: 2021-04-06T14:43:06+00:00

[3] TO KAILASH

RESPLENDENT, Mount Kailash.

Every hall of the crystalline palaces resplendent,

And every hall deserted.

The three-eyed God, the Dancer, Archer, the World-shaker,

Had descended from Mount Kailash.

The Blue-throated One

Sailed on black clouds alone through rain and hail

Across the Field of the Dead to the south,

Came down by Cho Mafam,

To the Green Lake peeping out among the peaks.

At Cho Mafam he stayed put on a stony waste –

No customary trip across the lake, a white swan,

For conversation with the Lake God.

At Cho Mafam he stayed put on a stony waste.

The heavenly minstrels and the lovely sirens who lead penitents astray

Hung far back on the slopes of Kailash,

A ragged fringe of the black clouds that had carried Shiva here.

Four fires Shiva built around him on the stony margins of Cho Mafam,

Two to the sides, one before and one behind him.

He sat, legs folded, on a tigerskin, his gaze directed downwards

His thoughts he channelled to the chambers of his heart.

And so he let the fierce flames on all four sides start roasting, charring

His breast, face, back, limbs,

For many days, he never stirring.

Then the terrible God stood up,

With a lump of rock he heaped the fires together.

He hung there in the huge undying flames,

He himself.

For many days allowed himself to burn,

Allowed himself to burn,

Not stirring.

And while he mortified himself and smouldered, all alone,

There came a ragged stream slowly down the slopes of Kailash:

His timorous entourage.

The minstrels and their lovers and the lovely youths,

Eleven Rudras, those curly-heads who howl in storms.

On clouds, owls, oxen they came riding, floated from peak to peak

Towards the thick smoke, the billowing glare of flames

That rose up from Cho Mafam.

A long while they ranged themselves around the mountain and the lake.

Listened a long while to the roar and crackle of the fire,

From hour to hour more horrified.

Saw: the terrible three-eyed God suspended in the flames.

Could dimly see the outline of his strong beloved body

When the wind, which he himself had summoned, blew fiercer on the fire,

And he was lifted up together with the flames.

And he kept silent in the smoke,

And took no notice of them. They withdrew.

On the slopes of Kailash they sat in snow.

Then they scattered: ‘What is it?’

‘Why does Shiva mortify himself, keep silent?’

‘Are the worlds about to perish?’

They made a circuit around Kailash – nothing revealed itself.

He silent, splendid.

The Field lay there below,

The usual flow of Shades, demons busy at their work.

The booming from the mountains reached them

Just like every other day.

They sneaked invisibly, those who were like the wind,

Into the verdant land of humans.

Upturned many a leaf to check that trees were growing normally,

Felt over various grasses,

Watched peasants ploughing in the fields, same fields as always, same crops,

Same tread of peasants behind oxen.

Eagles swooped on doves as usual.

Eavesdropped on priests conducting holy ceremonies,

Bathing, sacrificing, praying.

Nothing anywhere revealed itself. Nothing.

But something monstrous and mysterious was brewing:

They could feel it.

Softly they slipped back up from of the land of people.

They thronged the mountainside

Where Shiva, World-shaker, did silent penance in the flames,

Suspended in the huge fire, not stirring.

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