Slowly but surely the corners of your eyes –

The corners of your lotus eyes – they reddened up;

Who, oh who would have then dreamt, Lord,

That your name means solace – 

That your name is solace! 

 

Like the rumbling of the Indian cloud,

Like the rollers of the Great Sea,

Like the rising of the full moon in Śarad¹, 

Your glorious anger, ever so pure thy righteous anger – 

It ascends slowly but prominently. 

 

My Lord, my belovèd Lord, 

To gaze upon thine inflamed eyes

I must start afresh; I have to learn things anew –

For dulcet tunes are mine ears’ staple diet, and 

I’ve not known grinding wheels nor any twanging bows; 

No raging war has lit up my view.  

 

My Lord, my belovèd Lord, 

Can those brawny limbs, those sinewy sides –

Divine but human, all too human –

Contain the rage that once shook the earth ‘n’ parched the sea?

Can even the rugged peaks of Himavat, set ablaze at dawn, 

Suppress the rising sun, crimson as this rage of thee?   

 

Like the spreading of a cobra’s hood

Like the pause between lightning and thunder

Like the sparkling fumes from a quickening fire

Like the blooming of a chiliad petals,

Rage extends to the corners of your lotus eyes.

  

Your bloodshot, angry eyes, my Lord,

They bring terror to the heart of thine enemy, 

As do those blazing eyes horripilate thy devotee.

But when has a meek heart ever given cause 

For the universe to reverse thine eternal order, 

The natural course of things as willed by Thee? 

 

Thine enraged will now reaches for an arrow

And fixes itself on the hapless mark;

Thy wind-swept body, lustrated by penance,

Shimmers like soaring flames of a sacrificial vow,

And stays taut, as this string of thy terrific bow.

 

There you utter a terrible oath, 

You utter it before thine army –

And escaping thy lips, those unfailing words 

They begin their voyage across eternity.

The heart of the wicked Rakshasa tremors

Seeing thine arrows advance with celerity. 

 

Heaven and earth behold Thee poised;

As you resolve to punish the renegade Sea,

Now and then the waves break at your feet–

Lo, Varuṇa has appeared to beg for mercy!

They say there’s no barrier ‘gainst the elements, but, 

They failed to count one enraged man’s divinity.

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_{¹The Indian season of retreating monsoon, pre-autumn; not to be confused with the ‘autumn’ of Western Europe or North America}

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This poem is inspired by the detailing in the painting titled “Sri Rama Vanquishing the Sea” by Raja Ravi Varma. This painting is currently located in the Jayachamarajendra Art Gallery of Jaganmohan Palace in Mysore, Karnataka, India.