The PEN American Center has posted audio of Paul Auster reading two poems by Kabir, translated by Arvind Krishna Mehrotra's. The poems were originally published in PEN America 11: Make Believe. We've recently collected these poems (in slightly different versions), and many others, in Songs of Kabir.
Speaking of translation and the Pen American Center—don't forget that their annual world literature festival, PEN World Voices, kicks off today.
And what was yesterday a little mucus,
tomorrow will be a mummy or ashes.
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, IV. 48
Birth is scented with death.
—Bhartrihari (c. 5th century), v. 197,
trans. Barbara Stoler Miller
Friend,
You had one life,
And you blew it.From sticky spunk
To human shape,
You spent ten months
In your mother’s womb,
Blocked off from the world
Into which you fell
The minute you were born.
A child once,
You’re an old man now.
What has happened has happened.
Crying won’t help
When death already
Has you by the balls.
It’s counting your breaths,
Waiting.This world, says Kabir,
Is a gambling den.
You can’t be too careful.KG 60
It’s a mess,
But you’re there
To sort it out.Cock of the walk,
In great shape,
Keeping the best
Company:
That’s me.Listen, says Kabir,
I have a prayer to make.
I’m handcuffed to death.
Throw me the key.KG 44
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