The Artist
The selfsame radiant ecstasy
Which wrought the tempest’s giant wrath
Has painted gorgeous dream-designs
So delicately on the moth.
The selfsame luminous agony
Which shaped the lightning’s fiery claw
Has carved in utmost tenderness
A summer flower without a flaw.
The selfsame motherhood which made
The awful mystery of death
Has built the body of a child
And lit its limbs with golden breath.
The selfsame miracle which moves
In silent mystery apart
Has struck the secret melody
Which dances shyly in my heart.
Harindranath Chattopadhyaya.