இறை

 

அறம்பொரு ளின்பம் வீடு நாற்பயன் 

மறத்தொடு  கல்வி செல்வம்  முப்பொறி 

அழித்த  லாக்கல் காத்தல்  முற்றொழில் 

யருளி மறைத்தலி னிறையனார் குணமே

Hyla Brook

 

Hyla Brook by Robert Frost

By June our brook’s run out of song and speed.
Sought for much after that, it will be found
Either to have gone groping underground
(And taken with it all the Hyla breed
That shouted in the mist a month ago,
Like ghost of sleigh-bells in a ghost of snow)—
Or flourished and come up in jewel-weed,
Weak foliage that is blown upon and bent
Even against the way its waters went.
Its bed is left a faded paper sheet
Of dead leaves stuck together by the heat—
A brook to none but who remember long.
This as it will be seen is other far
Than with brooks taken otherwhere in song.
We love the things we love for what they are.

 

Another magnificent masterpiece by the great poet Robert Frost. The poem flows well, maybe like the Hyla Brook of Spring, and paints a vivid image of the scenery in this fifteen line sonnet and leaves the readers with a heavy heart and contemplative mind at the end.

This could be about any tiny brook behind our houses; the one that is very active, with song and speed, in the spring and with Hyla breed (Frog) croaking and jumping over the stream with full life. By summer, and by June, the same brook dries out; may be the water stream gone underground (where does soul goes when one dies?). The scorching summer heat dries the foliage and covers the stream as a long sheet of faded paper. It will be hard to call this dried-up stream covered in foliage, a brook. This is not the brook that was described earlier in this song or talked about elsewhere. But for people who have seen various stages of this brook at that location and has lived with it and has seen it in various seasons, this nonexistent waterbed is nothing but a brook. We, the readers, also love this brook. The hope is this will also change, and it will be filled with water and the brook will get its life in a matter of time.  We love the brook, or life, for what it is and not what it should be (when we see it or wish).

Is there any other better way to explain the circle of life other than Frost’s way? The water of the brook may change over seasons, overflows, and dries up but the stream stands there. Men may come and men may go but life goes on forever (and here it is water for this brook). If someone focuses on the brook, like the life as a whole, they can  hear the song and the speed of stream and witness the dried patch of land covered in faded foliage bed over the seasons. Similarly, we can witness the birth, the growth and the death as various phases of life. Without these phases or seasons, neither the brook nor the life is complete and we love the life or brook for its genuine wholesomeness and for what they are. If we love someone or something for a part or a phase of them, will that be true love?

On the other hand, if someone takes a snapshot of life in discrete seasons, the presence, and the absence (of something or water of the brook) can create happiness or sadness. The drying of water questions the very existence of brook like losing a loved one in the earth. However, if we lose a loved one, the physical vacuum created by their absence is filled with their memories in our mind. When we say we love them, we love their life. We celebrate their life with their death.

This poem also provides another perspective from the life of any individual in this world. Age and time can change one’s physical appearance; the seasons can change one’s energy level; the worldly situations over time can change one’s positions – financially, socially etc. When one is young, with high energy and wealth, they are surrounded by dreams, beauty and like-minded groups who are mutually benefited (like frogs). As one ages, they will be the repository of experience which are etched in the memory (Song) elsewhere. They may not have a group of people surrounding them and they could be alone. However, the frog knows the brook and the family and friends of the individual know them and love and celebrate them.

Every individual needs to be celebrated and loved for who they are. Life needs to be loved for what it is.