Aurobindo 125 Savitri Book 8

An appreciation on Savitri- Book Eight:The Book of Death Canto Three*:Death in the Forest Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's 'Then the doomed husband and the woman who knew Went with linked hands into that solemn world' Beside her Satyavan walked full of joy Because she moved with him through his green haunts: He showed her all the forest's riches, flowers Innumerable of every odour and hue' 'But little dwelt her mind upon their sense; Of death, not life she thought or life's lone end.' 'Love in her bosom hurt with the jagged edges Of anguish moaned at every step with pain Crying, 'Now, now perhaps his voice will cease For ever.'Even by some vague touch oppressed Sometimes her eyes looked round as if their orbs Might see the dim and dreadful god's approach. 'But Satyavan had paused. He meant to finish His labour here that happy, linked, uncaring' 'She like a pantheress leaped upon his words And carried them into her cavern heart. But as he worked, his doom upon him came. The violent and hungry hounds of pain Travelled through his body biting as they passed Silently, and all his suffering breath besieged Strove to rend life's strong heart-cords and be free. 'She came to him in silent anguish and clasped, ' 'And he cried to her, 'Savitri, a pang Cleaves through my head and breast as if the axe Were piercing it and not the living branch.' 'Awhile let me lay my head upon thy lap And guard me with thy hands from evil fate: Perhaps because thou touchest, death may pass.'... ............My consciousness this moment, O'Guru, I'm in awe....in invincible heights Ineffable Thee embellishing poetic creation My inquisitive apprehension, erring Thee may opine May there so, let Savitri in my self arise Aroused there so be knowledge and fortune =========================================== Note; Some more inspiring descriptive and informative lines from Book8 Canto 3 Page 563 A tree that raised its tranquil head to heaven Luxuriating in verdure, summoning The breeze with amorous wideness of its boughs, He chose and with his steel assailed the arm Brown, rough and strong hidden in its emerald dress. Page 563&564 every moment she economised Like a pale merchant leaned above his store, The miser of his poor remaining gold. But Satyavan wielded a joyous axe. He sang high snatches of a sage's chant That pealed of conquered death and demons slain, And sometimes paused to cry to her sweet speech Of love and mockery tenderer than love: Page 564 Now the great woodsman Hewed at him and his labour ceased: lifting His arm he flung away the poignant axe Far from him like an instrument of pain.