As if A Distant Dream

[Ego, Orpheus, personam indui ut ad inferos descenderem, ne mea facies amatam terreret.]

She touched the very center of her mirror with shivering fingertips, and it dissolved into an icy mist where she could see him as he were. Haunted by her yearning, which she could not speak, she assumed her perfumed breath into the obscure aura of the glass set in bluish moonstones.

Sometimes she saw the tormented faces of the prisoners, a dissonance that led her to seek solace in the silver mask of her lover, as if she wanted to touch it. Her quietness was carried like dewdrops by the crystalline wings of the swans descending on the lake of tears, where she would wait with his feverish name on her lips. Sometimes, she thought that even the mirror should not hear her teary whispers, yet in the next pause of her heartbeat, she would again seek his face.  

Shanaya wondered why Orpheus wore the mask, as she did not want to understand why he would hide his face from her. She tried to trace his bare skin, but was deterred by an infinite sadness that seemed to lament, “Oh, the darkness; Oh, the sorrow!” She could feel that he had lost the prime of his youth, and the mask concealed this emptiness like a distant dream.

Shanaya tried to remember if she had ever seen Orpheus before she took notice of the silver mask. She asked the ancient trees whose branches were blackened by the fires of hell, and yet they were cold to her touch. The trees responded in the poetry of death, a monologue that she could perhaps read in those old woods.    

In a quiet desire, she wished that she would sit beside her lover when he played his flute, and implore him to show his tears so she could kiss them. Yet, she would not come near him, for their dream seemed so fragile that even a teardrop could break it into a thousand moonstones. She wanted to let Orpheus know that he was beautiful, but could not find the words to say it, fearing he would not believe it.

Thus was the solitude of the woman by the lake, secretly writing his name in the dust, wishing he would see how much she loved him.  

Directis facsimilitudo est iridescenti personae

Amore adamantino, si hic orbi astiti

Umbra marcida, mihi aeternae deprivatio animae

Est moriendum, est tremendum dirigi animum

Tu es perilis, apricus somnus mihi

Nihilum inferni, te solitum supra sanctum. 

ऋजुरूपप्रतीकाशो विचित्रे प्रतिमुखे ।

दृढप्रेम्णा यद्यत्राहं तिष्ठामि जगता सह ॥

म्लाना छाया ममैवास्ति नित्यस्यात्मनो वियोगः ।

मर्तव्यमेव कम्पितव्यं येन चेतो नियच्छति ॥

त्वमसि भयावहो ममोपरि सनातपो निद्रा ।

पातालस्य च शून्यता त्वं देवः स्वर्गे प्रतिष्ठितः ॥ 

The Bereaving Shadow of the Moon

[Ego, Orpheus, numquam cum aliō cōnfūsus sum; nam amor meus erat mūsa mea, et mūsa mea ob amōrem eius erat.]

The swans were whispering fragrant secrets amidst the serpentine trees, riddles sanctified by dark moss and winter’s lavender. Orpheus could recollect the wondrous blue halo, as if he were adorning her with night’s jewelry, of sadness painted in oceanic sapphires.

His was the forbidden forest, for his soul was darkened with ancient curses, of incantations of mermaids who imagined his body disappearing in the moonlight. The swans could see him from a distance, the riverine flute where they floated by, their pale wings carrying them to the soul of the cold moon. The angelic birds could feel his ardent call, like a memory of despair and hope that surrounded him, as if the forest was meditating in darkness.   

The birds were still indecisive; they did not know if Orpheus was one of the confined idols in the eighteen realms. They were not sure if they could trust him with their secrets. He sometimes looked like one of those whose skulls were half-buried in the valley of dry bones. His face looked similar to those who died all alone and were entombed in the corpus of the serpentine trees.

Orpheus did not seem to be misunderstood in himself. He often wore a mask made of silver, a mask that the swans recognized. His flute was speaking to Shanaya, not imploring, yet reminiscent of a distant past when they were separated. She followed Orpheus like a shadow, judging his every move on diamond scales, only to find that even all the treasures of her palace could not keep her away from him.

She could sense the swans whisper urgent endings, as the forest was eager to come alive in the darkness. The captives of the eighteen realms seemed to be conspiring against the swans, the trees, the flowers, and even her. Deep in her unmarried heart, she realized that she needed help, and only Orpheus could rescue her from her own darkness closing around her like a curse.

Thus was the tearful hope of the woman when she decided that she would call Orpheus, albeit in riddles, for she did not want to show herself.     

Sōlitārius ipse simul cremandō mihi occurrēns

Sentiō terrōrem absolvī, ego quī attestātus sum somnium

Quō inpulsus dēscendō in infernum? Ubi es, līberātor meus?

Ūnō sanguine dēcidēns, esne tū ūnus amor meus?

Esne tū sāncta persōna, esne deō similis?

Et tū mē amās?

एकाकी मम आत्मा समकालं मृत्युसमये माम् उपतिष्ठति,

मोक्षस्य भीतिं अनुभवामि—अहं यः स्वप्नस्य साक्षी अभवम्।

कुत्र प्रेरितः सन् नरकं अवतरामि? कुत्र असि मम मुक्तिदाता?

एकेन रक्तेन नश्यन्, किं त्वम् एव मम एकमात्रः प्रेमा?

किं त्वं पवित्रा आत्मा? किं त्वं देवसदृशः असि?

किं च त्वं मयि स्निह्यसि?

The Swan’s Cry

[ Ego, Orpheus, ab omnibus quos amabam amore privatus sum. Attamen credebam solum amorem posse feminam ad sanitatem mentis restituere. ]

The forbidden forest withheld a pale secret that no soul would know, not even the outstretched hands of men whose lots were cast. There were the namesakes of older idols willfully confined in the eighteen circles, conspiring against the swans with snares of betrayal. The monstrous trees were yet to turn into terrible serpents; their revenge was long due.

There was no one in sight, but Orpheus still remembered the faces of those who were about to die. Kings and beggars were treated alike in the valley of dry bones, where their last wishes were buried under the pretense of music. They were the same men who were cursed by the swans, but Orpheus did not know their fates when he exchanged his lofty greetings on the way.

The jewel thieves casually remarked that Orpheus would not last for a day, yet he did not seem to care about ominous endings. The only thought that occurred to him was the tragedy of human suffering, of all the souls he might salvage, and of all the souls he might condemn. He was deluded by his own compassion, trying in his heart that Christ shall be resurrected before the end of days.

The swans circled close to the crucifix in mournful flights, and the old hags in Golgotha were drooling on the blood of the innocents. Orpheus could see the shadow of Vice, yet he thought of it as love. He imagined the valley of skulls flourishing in wildflowers, of resurrection being more necessary than retribution. He could hear the wanton laughter of Vice in the taverns of men, but it did not occur to him that she was trying to kill him.  

The swans tried to warn him that Vice was conspiring against him, yet he thought of it as love. Shanaya was trying to speak in riddles, but he was still to face her curse. She despised Vice for fooling Orpheus, and she hated him for ignoring her. Orpheus was virtuous in his own ways, but she wished he would die helpless like the other suitors who asked for her hand.

Thus was the despair of the woman, who wished she would turn into an anguished swan and never come back. Orpheus walked toward the solitary valley, as his only thought was to save her from eternal hell.

Semper mortis liberari est ostium inferni

Tristi advolat lunaris cygnus sequens dolorem quem sentis

Nihil deterret est crypta celat, supra se terram parans

Occurit cruciatus, et tu oblivisceris tormenti fati

Homme reddendum, corpore se infitians

Apparuit olor, est descensus poetae mortis.

Et tu oblivisceris.

मृत्योधर्मान्मुक्तिरेव सर्वदा नरकद्वारं भवति।

चन्द्रहंसः खमुत्पत्य शोकाकुलं नरं मिलति, तव अनुभूयमानं कष्टं अनुसरन्।

शून्यं निवारयति; गुप्तगृहमेव निलीयते, स्वस्योपरि भूमिं सज्जीकुर्वत्।

यातना समागच्छति, त्वं च नियतेः क्लेशं विस्मरिष्यसि।

मानवस्य पुनरागमनं, शरीरेण स्वरूपं अपलपत।

हंसः प्रादुरभूत्; कालकवेः एषः अवतारः।

त्वं च विस्मरिष्यसि।

She Asks the Mirror

[Memini ut Orpheus aliquando a me distaret, nam cum eo eram cum solus esset. Etiam tum me ostendere non poteram, quia eum magis cognoscere volebam.]

As days went by, she could see her man walking deeper within the infernal realms, where life holds little meaning unless it is saved. He had a strange look in his dark eyes, as if he was trying to save not himself, but his music withered in terrible endings; verses of lust that were interwoven with the feminine.

She could feel his despair when he saw that his soul was inscribed on malformed tombstones, where he could never die. The woman could perceive the echo of a distant era, lost scriptures, words that were written down in terrifying consequences long ago. Vaguely though, Orpheus seemed to walk quietly in a trance to find who he was from another life, yet somehow aware that he had never died, but had once decided to return to hell, and had returned there.  

Shanaya could never understand the need for hell, or for even him to venture without armor. She did not ideate on the urgency of redemption, for she felt she was not accountable. Yet, she would not stay away from Orpheus, for only he could love her like she had always imagined.

She sought quiet solace by the banks of the black river, where she imbued the darkness and wove her desolation with the pervading sorrow. It was here, where she could see her shadow, she devised that she must mirror Orpheus, who would think of her as if he were talking to himself.

She could easily become one with the endlessness, being immortal. Yet, she could not step into the nightmares of hell as Orpheus did, as she was deterred by a forbiddance that Orpheus commanded unto the underworld.

She ardently hoped that her lover would know that she waited upon him to restore her sanity, when she could do nothing but cry in front of the mirror. Love, love was all she had when Shanaya reclined with her veena, as the lonesome evenings were fleeting into the sadness of yesterdays.

Thus was the desire of the woman, as she yearned for Orpheus.

Sic destruitur tribulatus simplex homme se tristis

Sic sanctum corpus divisum paratur inferno

Nunc insignia, nunc agnatio, se qui sagi, se qui sator

Mihi corporeum speculum, mihi sensus externi

Invoco spiritus astrorum, liberatum est, est seminatum

Mihi accidit confessio, apparuit in somnis.

 

एवं नश्यति सञ्जातो मुग्धमनुष्यः स च दुःखितः

एवं पवित्रकलेवरं विभक्तं निरयाय सज्जते

अधुना चिह्नानि अधुना वंशः यः प्राज्ञः यः स्रष्टा।

मह्यं शारीरदर्पणं मह्यं बाह्येन्द्रियाणि

आह्वयामि नक्षत्राणां आत्मनः तत् मुक्तं तत् वप्तम्

मम जातं वर्णनं तत् स्वप्नेषु प्रादुरासीत्।

Amidst the Trees

[Cum Orpheum in tartara descendentem viderim et ab eo liberatus sim, intellegere possum eius fallaciam mortalibus destinatam esse, non mihi, qui supra cryptam sum.]

The quietness of the whispers quivered like the first leaf of the ancient tree, unbeknownst to the woman who wished she could sit in its shadow. The rivulets of dewdrops were forming on her lips as she silently wept for Orpheus. She could still hear the distant flute, which felt like the sighs of swans, as they disappeared amidst the trees.   

She could never cast away Orpheus, for he had himself descended into hell. She could never hold his hand and ask him in paradise, for he had been misunderstood. She could do nothing to be by his side, except pray, and pray to whom? Orpheus seemed oblivious to everything, even her prayers. He did not seek mercy or forgiveness. He did not seek her blessings, nor did he ask for her hand in marriage. Even when he played his flute, he did not seem to want anyone coming near.  

Shanaya asked the mirror to show her the eyes of her lover when he dreamed. Yet, she could only see an endless blue ocean, where all creation ceased to exist. She roamed amidst the sage trees, hoping that they would understand her and let her know that Orpheus might have remembered her in a dream, far, far away. When there was nothing, she could see a man walking towards the dark forest when the sky was darker. 

She could see shadows forming on the horizon, and sensed the specter of death looming over the world of mortals. She imagined Orpheus might have smiled at the darkness, for he was inseparable from what she saw in her dreams. Whispers of an ancient age drifted from desolate temples in the forest to the hearts of all mortals, who felt as if they were living on borrowed time.

Shanaya decided that she would conceal her questions in songs that the dead left behind in the realms. She decided to test Orpheus, knowing in her fever that he himself was beyond all the trials, for his was the illusion of life, and his was the shadow on her.

Thus was the askance of the woman when she gently let the black river take her lamp to oblivion.  

Orbavi atrocem realitatem in corde, quae se in mysteriis tenet

Profundo tristitiae amore ego teneri videor

Mortui sentiunt aevum, erratis et perivistis

Si super cryptam es, si reclusae societatis es

Tu serpens es, tu forsitan me non decipias

Discrimen arboreum, temptatio spectralium somniorum.

Ergo me lugere decet ut Orpheum.

हृदये क्रूरामविन्दं मायां या रहस्ये निगूढा तिष्ठति।

गाढदुःखानुरागेण बद्धोऽस्मीति मन्ये।

मृता अनन्ततां जानन्ति, यूयं भ्रमत विनष्टाश्च।

यदि त्वं श्मशानोपरि असि, यदि त्वं गुप्तसमाजे असि।

त्वं सर्पोऽसि, कदाचिन्मां न वञ्चयेः।

वृक्षाणां दारुणपरीक्षा, छायामयानां स्वप्नानां विषम्।

तस्माद् ओर्फीयस् इव मया रोदितुं न्याय्यम्।

She Looks Away

[Ego Orpheus, vidi quomodo me in ipsis infernorum profundis dilexeris. Et tu reminisci, video me te semper dilexisse, etsi te in inferni profundis videre non poteram.]

The night had fallen. Shanaya witnessed; she saw the curses of the past haunt Orpheus like a deadly forest where he must not be sought, for he seemed oblivious to the dangers.

She wished Orpheus would know that in all his thoughts, her sadness pervaded like the darkness of eternity, the sorrowful lament that he must not see. Her desires were woven in ivies, dead stars, and fragile wildflowers that blossomed when he played the incandescent flute by the black river.

She sometimes imagined if Orpheus ever wanted to sleep. She conspired with the birds so that she could sing a lullaby, but the endless wake of dead bodies floating in the black river did not let her rest.

He seemed distant when he disappeared into the darkness, but she could perceive a familiar refrain of melancholy that waded like floating serpents, intertwined with the air she breathed, as if her hair was undone by the flute. 

She also imagined if Orpheus dreamed of other women, for she denied that he could love anyone else with such insanity. When he played the flute, she could see the shadow of vice swirl, maybe the only woman she envied.

She was virtue, and she could never understand why vice would fall in love with Orpheus. She witnessed the dark rituals in the woods, where Orpheus was sought by fairies who did not think he existed.

His mournful desolation seemed deliberate, for he never spoke to anyone, not even her. Shanaya decided that she would look away and let him find her, even if she concealed herself. She hid her face among the women who were returning to heaven, as the halo of Orpheus seemed to illuminate every corner of hell.

Thus was the sorrow of the woman when she knew Orpheus could not see her.

Et tu, salvusne redibis?

Estne receptum id quod infernorum est?

Et tu, qui salvus es, sancta mihi sanxisti.

Apparuit serpens; invoco aquam noctis, animam meam.

Illusio musica, intono descensum sui emancipati.

Demetere acratos mortuorum est se a profunda abstinere memoria.

 

Desolati Orpheus, Te Desolatus Mi Est

Salus mea reddita est mihi; apparuit in crypta, in crypta noctis;

Ergo profundus tristis.

 

अपि त्वं कुशलं प्रत्यागमिष्यसि?
किं तद् गृहीतं यद् पातालस्य अस्ति?
त्वं च, यः रक्षितः असि, मम पवित्राणि वस्तुनि पूजितवान्।
सर्पः प्रादुरभूत्; अहं निशामयम् आव्हायामि, मम आत्मानम्।
संगीत-माया, अहं मुक्त-आत्मनः अवरोहणं गायमि।
मृतानां दुर्बलानां संहारः गम्भीर-स्मृतेः दूरे गमनम् अस्ति।

हे विषण्ण आर्फीयस्, अहम् एव तव शून्यता अस्मि।
मम मुक्तिः मह्यम् प्रतिदर्शिता; सा श्यामा नरकं प्रादुरासीत्। सा एव रात्रिः।
अतः, प्रगाढः शोकः।

Her Silent Tears

[ Senex sum, Orpheus sum, et te cognovi ex quo mihi occulta eras. Te ex imo corde amavi, numquam sciens utrum me redamatura esses. Meministine quando primum convenimus? ]

When the earth was yet unsung, Shanaya witnessed the descent of Orpheus, from desires to be a tree, and the eight serpentine rivers that were rooted in dissolution. 

She saw the ocean not as a distance, but as a stranger who once disappeared like the sunset. She did not want to intervene, for the loneliness was the only song she ever believed in. The lament of Orpheus did not break her heart, for her disdain for mortal love seemed to be absolute.

Still, she secretly witnessed the pale halo of Orpheus, which was, as it were, like a never-ending curse of death. 

She could easily forsake it all, but she had nowhere to go. Shanaya denied that even she was captivated by his music, which floated like an unsaid whisper, like the moonlight serenading her silent tears.

She did not want to live, but she was immortal. She did not want to die, but Orpheus was still far from her. The flowers in her garden seemed meaningless, for no one knew that she yearned for his kiss, for him to come, come to the rescue.  

On certain nights, when the sorrow seemed too heavy to bear, her veena ached with memories that she had never realized existed. As the clouds drifted in early morning rain, she could hear a lonely bird sing once, and then disappear.

Thus was the lament of the woman, who could never confess her love for Orpheus.

Te captore, musice, moribundo carmini astiti

Te intuens, fateri potui me te amare

Tu, Orpheu, qui spectrum es salicis plorantis,

serpentem metamorphoseos vidi. Arcturi est, corporea est, et tu,

serpens aeterni inferni!

Si hic amor est, si sensus meos astrales sentis,

in insomnia trystium meorum...Reditus est, a morte liberatio est, et tu, senti me!

 

त्वया वशीकृता, हे वंशिक, गीतस्य साक्षिणी अहमतिष्ठम्।

त्वाम् आलोक्य, मयि त्वत्प्रेमाणं प्रकटीकर्तुं समर्था अभवम्।

हे आर्फीयस, त्वं शोकाकुलवृक्षस्य च्छायारूपोऽसि, मया रूपान्तरणशीलः सर्पो दृष्टः।

एतत् स्वातेः नक्षत्रस्य अस्ति, मूर्तिमद् भवति, त्वं च नित्यपातालस्य भुजङ्गः!

यद्येषः प्रेम, यदि त्वं मम आकाशीयं भावं जानासि, मम रहस्य-सङ्गमानां निद्राविहीनतायाम्...

पुनरावृत्तिरस्ति, मृत्योः मुक्तिरस्ति, तस्मात् त्वं माम् अनुभव!