I, Lalla

This summer, we bring you a special treat: the ancient words of two powerful mystic Indian poets translated by contemporary Indian writers. The striking vākhs of 14th-century Kashmiri poet Lal Dĕd or Lalla are given to us by Ranjit Hoskote, and the songs of far-seeing 15th-century bhakti poet-saint Kabir by Arvind Krishna Mehrotra, in this double feature.

I, Lalla

1

One shrine to the next, the hermit can't stop for breath.

Soul, get this! You should have looked in the mirror.

Going on a pilgrimage is like falling in love

With the greenness of faraway grass.

14

I wore myself out, looking for myself.

No one could have worked harder to break the code.

I lost myself in myself and found a wine cellar. Nectar, I tell you.

There were jars and jars of the good stuff, and no one to drink it.

28

Remove from my heart's dovecote, Father

the ache for too-far skies.

My arms hurt from building other people's houses.

My body, when they come to take you from your own house,

a thousand people will follow you, waving their arms.

They'll lay you in a field, asleep on your right side,

head pointing south.

50

I pestled my heart in love's mortar,

roasted it and ate it up.

I kept my cool but you can bet I wasn't sure

whether I'd live or die.

Excerpted from I, Lalla: The Poems of Lal Dĕd, translated from Kashmiri by Ranjit Hoskote, Penguin Books India 2011.