ویویکانند آرکائیو

Who Knows how Mother Plays!

جلد5 poem
344 الفاظ · 1 منٹ کا مطالعہ · Writings: Prose and Poems

یہ ترجمہ مصنوعی ذہانت سے تیار کیا گیا ہے اور اس میں غلطیاں ہو سکتی ہیں۔ براہ کرم اصل انگریزی متن سے رجوع کریں۔

AI-translated. May contain errors. For accurate text, refer to the original English.

WHO KNOWS HOW MOTHER PLAYS!

Perchance a prophet thou —

Who knows? Who dares touch

The depths where Mother hides

Her silent failless bolts!

Perchance the child had glimpse

Of shades, behind the scenes,

With eager eyes and strained,

Quivering forms—ready

To jump in front and be

Events! resistless, strong.

Who knows but Mother, how,

And where, and when, they come?

Perchance the shining sage

Saw more than he could tell;

Who knows, what soul, and when,

The Mother makes Her throne?

What law would freedom bind?

What merit guide Her will,

Whose freak is greatest order,

Whose will resistless law?

To child may glories ope

Which father never dreamt;

May thousandfold in daughter

Her powers Mother store.

Perchance a prophet thou —

Who knows? Who dares touch

The depths where Mother hides

Her silent failless bolts!

Perchance the child had glimpse

Of shades, behind the scenes,

With eager eyes and strained,

Quivering forms—ready

To jump in front and be

Events! resistless, strong.

Who knows but Mother, how,

And where, and when, they come?

Perchance the shining sage

Saw more than he could tell;

Who knows, what soul, and when,

The Mother makes Her throne?

What law would freedom bind?

What merit guide Her will,

Whose freak is greatest order,

Whose will resistless law?

To child may glories ope

Which father never dreamt;

May thousandfold in daughter

Her powers Mother store.

Perchance a prophet thou —

Who knows? Who dares touch

The depths where Mother hides

Her silent failless bolts!

Perchance the child had glimpse

Of shades, behind the scenes,

With eager eyes and strained,

Quivering forms—ready

To jump in front and be

Events! resistless, strong.

Who knows but Mother, how,

And where, and when, they come?

Perchance the shining sage

Saw more than he could tell;

Who knows, what soul, and when,

The Mother makes Her throne?

What law would freedom bind?

What merit guide Her will,

Whose freak is greatest order,

Whose will resistless law?

To child may glories ope

Which father never dreamt;

May thousandfold in daughter

Her powers Mother store.


متن ویکی سورس عوامی ملکیت سے۔ اصل کو ادویت آشرم نے شائع کیا۔