The Bhagavad-Gita(巴哥维得·吉它)

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The Bhagavad-Gita, translated

The Bhagavad-Gita

Translated Sir Edwin Arnold

The Bhagavad-Gita, translated

Dedication

TO INDIA

So have I read this wonderful and spirit-thrilling speech, By Krishna

and Prince Arjun held, discoursing each with each; So have I writ its

wisdom here,--its hidden mystery, For England; O our India! as dear to me

as She!

EDWIN ARNOLD

The Bhagavad-Gita, translated

PREFACE

This famous and marvellous Sanskrit poem occurs as an episode of the

Mahabharata, in the sixth--or "Bhishma"--Parva of the great Hindoo epic.

It enjoys immense popularity and authority in India, where it is reckoned

as one of the ``Five Jewels,"--pancharatnani--of Devanagiri literature. In

plain but noble language it unfolds a philosophical system which remains

to this day the prevailing Brahmanic belief, blending as it does the

doctrines of Kapila, Patanjali, and the Vedas. So lofty are many of its

declarations, so sublime its aspirations, so pure and tender its piety, that

Schlegel, after his study of the poem, breaks forth into this outburst of

delight and praise towards its unknown author: "Magistrorum reverentia a

Brachmanis inter sanctissima pietatis officia refertur. Ergo te primum,

Vates sanctissime, Numinisque hypopheta! quisquis tandem inter mortales

dictus tu fueris, carminis bujus auctor,, cujus oraculis mens ad excelsa

quaeque,quaeque,, aeterna atque divina, cum inenarraoih quddam

delectatione rapitur-te primum, inquam, salvere jubeo, et vestigia tua

semper adore." Lassen re-echoes this splendid tribute; and indeed, so

striking are some of the moralities here inculcated, and so close the

parallelism--ofttimes actually verbal-- between its teachings and those of

the New Testament, that a controversy has arisen between Pandits and

Missionaries on the point whether the author borrowed from Christian

sources, or the Evangelists and Apostles from him.

This raises the question of its date, which cannot be positively settled.

It must have been inlaid into the ancient epic at a period later than that of

the original Mahabharata, but Mr Kasinath Telang has offered some fair

arguments to prove it anterior to the Christian era. The weight of evidence,

however, tends to place its composition at about the third century after

Christ; and perhaps there are really echoes in this Brahmanic poem of the

lessons of Galilee, and of the Syrian incarnation.

Its scene is the level country between the Jumna and the Sarsooti

rivers-now Kurnul and Jheend. Its simple plot consists of a dialogue held

by Prince Arjuna, the brother of King Yudhisthira, with Krishna, the

Supreme Deity, wearing the disguise of a charioteer. A great battle is

The Bhagavad-Gita, translated

impending between the armies of the Kauravas and Pandavas, and this

conversation is maintained in a war-chariot drawn up between the

opposing hosts.

The poem has been turned into French by Burnouf, into Latin by

Lassen, into Italian by Stanislav Gatti, into Greek by Galanos, and into

English by Mr. Thomson and Mr Davies, the prose transcript of the last-

named being truly beyond praise for its fidelity and clearness. Mr Telang

has also published at Bombay a version in colloquial rhythm, eminently

learned and intelligent, but not conveying the dignity or grace of the

original. If I venture to offer a translation of the wonderful poem after so

many superior scholars, it is in grateful recognition of the help derived

from their labours, and because English literature would certainly be

incomplete without possessing in popular form a poetical and

philosophical work so dear to India.

There is little else to say which the "Song Celestial" does not explain

for itself. The Sanskrit original is written in the Anushtubh metre, which

cannot be successfully reproduced for Western ears. I have therefore cast it

into our flexible blank verse, changing into lyrical measures where the text

itself similarly breaks. For the most part, I believe the sense to be

faithfully preserved in the following pages; but Schlegel himself had to

say: "In reconditioribus me semper poetafoster mentem recte divinasse

affirmare non ausim." Those who would read more upon the philosophy of

the poem may find an admirable introduction in the volume of Mr Davies,

printed by Messrs Trubner & Co.

EDWIN ARNOLD, C.S.I.

The Bhagavad-Gita, translated

CHAPTER I

Dhritirashtra: Ranged thus for battle on the sacred plain-- On

Kurukshetra--say, Sanjaya! say What wrought my people, and the

Pandavas?

Sanjaya: When he beheld the host of Pandavas, Raja Duryodhana to

Drona drew, And spake these words: "Ah, Guru! see this line, How vast it

is of Pandu fighting-men, Embattled by the son of Drupada, Thy scholar in

the war! Therein stand ranked Chiefs like Arjuna, like to Bhima chiefs,

Benders of bows; Virata, Yuyudhan, Drupada, eminent upon his car,

Dhrishtaket, Chekitan, Kasi's stout lord, Purujit, Kuntibhoj, and Saivya,

With Yudhamanyu, and Uttamauj Subhadra's child; and Drupadi's;-all

famed! All mounted on their shining chariots! On our side, too,--thou best

of Brahmans! see Excellent chiefs, commanders of my line, Whose names

I joy to count: thyself the first, Then Bhishma, Karna, Kripa fierce in fight,

Vikarna, Aswatthaman; next to these Strong Saumadatti, with full many

more Valiant and tried, ready this day to die For me their king, each with

his weapon grasped, Each skilful in the field. Weakest-meseems- Our

battle shows where Bhishma holds command, And Bhima, fronting him,

something too strong! Have care our captains nigh to Bhishma's ranks

Prepare what help they may! Now, blow my shell!"

Then, at the signal of the aged king, With blare to wake the blood,

rolling around Like to a lion's roar, the trumpeter Blew the great Conch;

and, at the noise of it, Trumpets and drums, cymbals and gongs and horns

Burst into sudden clamour; as the blasts Of loosened tempest, such the

tumult seemed! Then might be seen, upon their car of gold Yoked with

white steeds, blowing their battle-shells, Krishna the God, Arjuna at his

side: Krishna, with knotted locks, blew his great conch Carved of the

"Giant's bone;" Arjuna blew Indra's loud gift; Bhima the terrible-- Wolf-

bellied Bhima-blew a long reed-conch; And Yudhisthira, Kunti's blameless

son, Winded a mighty shell, "Victory's Voice;" And Nakula blew shrill

upon his conch Named the "Sweet-sounding," Sahadev on his

Called"Gem-bedecked," and Kasi's Prince on his. Sikhandi on his car,

Dhrishtadyumn, Virata, Satyaki the Unsubdued, Drupada, with his sons,

The Bhagavad-Gita, translated

(O Lord of Earth!) Long-armed Subhadra's children, all blew loud, So that

the clangour shook their foemen's hearts, With quaking earth and

thundering heav'n.

Then 'twas- Beholding Dhritirashtra's battle set, Weapons unsheathing,

bows drawn forth, the war Instant to break-Arjun, whose ensign-badge

Was Hanuman the monkey, spake this thing To Krishna the Divine, his

charioteer: "Drive, Dauntless One! to yonder open ground Betwixt the

armies; I would see more nigh These who will fight with us, those we

must slay To-day, in war's arbitrament; for, sure, On bloodshed all are bent

who throng this plain, Obeying Dhritirashtra's sinful son."

Thus, by Arjuna prayed, (O Bharata!) Between the hosts that heavenly

Charioteer Drove the bright car, reining its milk-white steeds Where

Bhishma led,and Drona,and their Lords. "See!" spake he to Arjuna, "where

they stand, Thy kindred of the Kurus:" and the Prince Marked on each

hand the kinsmen of his house, Grandsires and sires, uncles and brothers

and sons, Cousins and sons-in-law and nephews, mixed With friends and

honoured elders; some this side, Some that side ranged: and, seeing those

opposed, Such kith grown enemies-Arjuna's heart Melted with pity, while

he uttered this:

Arjuna. Krishna! as I behold, come here to shed Their common blood,

yon concourse of our kin, My members fail, my tongue dries in my mouth,

A shudder thrills my body, and my hair Bristles with horror; from my

weak hand slips Gandiv, the goodly bow; a fever burns My skin to

parching; hardly may I stand; The life within me seems to swim and faint;

Nothing do I foresee save woe and wail! It is not good, O Keshav! nought

of good Can spring from mutual slaughter! Lo, I hate Triumph and

domination, wealth and ease, Thus sadly won! Aho! what victory Can

bring delight, Govinda! what rich spoils Could profit; what rule

recompense; what span Of life itself seem sweet, bought with such blood?

Seeing that these stand here, ready to die, For whose sake life was fair, and

pleasure pleased, And power grew precious:-grandsires, sires, and sons,

Brothers, and fathers-in-law, and sons-in-law, Elders and friends! Shall I

deal death on these Even though they seek to slay us? Not one blow, O

Madhusudan! will I strike to gain

The Bhagavad-Gita, translated

The rule of all Three Worlds; then, how much less To seize an earthly

kingdom! Killing these Must breed but anguish, Krishna! If they be Guilty,

we shall grow guilty by their deaths; Their sins will light on us, if we shall

slay Those sons of Dhritirashtra, and our kin; What peace could come of

that, O Madhava? For if indeed, blinded by lust and wrath, These cannot

see, or will not see, the sin Of kingly lines o'erthrown and kinsmen slain,

How should not we, who see, shun such a crime-- We who perceive the

guilt and feel the shame-- O thou Delight of Men, Janardana? By

overthrow of houses perisheth Their sweet continuous household piety,

And-rites neglected, piety extinct-- Enters impiety upon that home; Its

women grow unwomaned, whence there spring Mad passions, and the

mingling-up of castes, Sending a Hell-ward road that family, And whoso

wrought its doom by wicked wrath. Nay, and the souls of honoured

ancestors Fall from their place of peace, being bereft Of funeral-cakes and

the wan death-water.[FN#1] So teach our holy hymns. Thus, if we slay

Kinsfolk and friends for love of earthly power, Ahovat! what an evil fault

it were! Better I deem it, if my kinsmen strike, To face them weaponless,

and bare my breast To shaft and spear, than answer blow with blow. So

speaking, in the face of those two hosts, Arjuna sank upon his chariot-seat,

And let fall bow and arrows, sick at heart.

The Bhagavad-Gita, translated

HERE ENDETHCHAPTER I. OF THE BHAGAVAD-GITA, Entitled

"Arjun-Vishad," Or "The Book of the Distress of Arjuna."

The Bhagavad-Gita, translated

CHAPTER II

Sanjaya. Him, filled with such compassion and such grief, With eyes

tear-dimmed, despondent, in stern words The Driver, Madhusudan, thus

addressed:

Krishna. How hath this weakness taken thee? Whence springs The

inglorious trouble, shameful to the brave, Barring the path of virtue? Nay,

Arjun! Forbid thyself to feebleness! it mars Thy warrior-name! cast off the

coward-fit! Wake! Be thyself! Arise, Scourge of thy Foes!

Arjuna. How can I, in the battle, shoot with shafts On Bhishma, or on

Drona-O thou Chief!-- Both worshipful, both honourable men?

Better to live on beggar's bread With those we love alive, Than

taste their blood in rich feasts spread, And guiltily survive! Ah! were it

worse-who knows?--to be Victor or vanquished here, When those

confront us angrily Whose death leaves living drear? In pity lost, by

doubtings tossed, My thoughts-distracted-turn To Thee, the Guide I

reverence most, That I may counsel learn: I know not what would heal

the grief Burned into soul and sense, If I were earth's unchallenged

chief-- A god--and these gone thence!

Sanjaya. So spake Arjuna to the Lord of Hearts, And sighing,"I will

not fight!" held silence then. To whom, with tender smile, (O Bharata! )

While the Prince wept despairing 'twixt those hosts, Krishna made answer

in divinest verse:

Krishna. Thou grievest where no grief should be! thou speak'st Words

lacking wisdom! for the wise in heart Mourn not for those that live, nor

those that die. Nor I, nor thou, nor any one of these, Ever was not, nor ever

will not be, For ever and for ever afterwards. All, that doth live, lives

always! To man's frame As there come infancy and youth and age, So

come there raisings-up and layings-down Of other and of other life-abodes,

Which the wise know, and fear not. This that irks-- Thy sense-life, thrilling

to the elements-- Bringing thee heat and cold, sorrows and joys, 'Tis brief

and mutable! Bear with it, Prince! As the wise bear. The soul which is not

moved, The soul that with a strong and constant calm Takes sorrow and

takes joy indifferently, Lives in the life undying! That which is Can never

The Bhagavad-Gita, translated

cease to be; that which is not Will not exist. To see this truth of both Is

theirs who part essence from accident, Substance from shadow.

Indestructible, Learn thou! the Life is, spreading life through all; It cannot

anywhere, by any means, Be anywise diminished, stayed, or changed. But

for these fleeting frames which it informs With spirit deathless, endless,

infinite, They perish. Let them perish, Prince! and fight! He who shall say,

"Lo! I have slain a man!" He who shall think, "Lo! I am slain!" those both

Know naught! Life cannot slay. Life is not slain! Never the spirit was born;

the spirit shall cease to be never; Never was time it was not; End and

Beginning are dreams! Birthless and deathless and changeless remaineth

the spirit for ever; Death hath not touched it at all, dead though the house

of it seems!

Who knoweth it exhaustless, self-sustained, Immortal, indestructible,--

shall such Say, "I have killed a man, or caused to kill?"

Nay, but as when one layeth His worn-out robes away, And taking

new ones, sayeth, "These will I wear to-day!" So putteth by the spirit

Lightly its garb of flesh, And passeth to inherit A residence afresh.

I say to thee weapons reach not the Life; Flame burns it not, waters

cannot o'erwhelm, Nor dry winds wither it. Impenetrable, Unentered,

unassailed, unharmed, untouched, Immortal, all-arriving, stable, sure,

Invisible, ineffable, by word And thought uncompassed, ever all itself,

Thus is the Soul declared! How wilt thou, then,-- Knowing it so,--grieve

when thou shouldst not grieve? How, if thou hearest that the man new-

dead Is, like the man new-born, still living man-- One same, existent

Spirit--wilt thou weep? The end of birth is death; the end of death Is birth:

this is ordained! and mournest thou, Chief of the stalwart arm! for what

befalls Which could not otherwise befall? The birth Of living things comes

unperceived; the death Comes unperceived; between them, beings

perceive: What is there sorrowful herein, dear Prince?

Wonderful, wistful, to contemplate! Difficult, doubtful, to speak

upon! Strange and great for tongue to relate, Mystical hearing for every

one! Nor wotteth man this, what a marvel it is, When seeing, and

saying, and hearing are done!

This Life within all living things, my Prince! Hides beyond harm;

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TheBhagavad-Gita,translated1TheBhagavad-GitaTranslatedSirEdwinArnoldTheBhagavad-Gita,translated2DedicationTOINDIASohaveIreadthiswonderfulandspirit-thrillingspeech,ByKrishnaandPrinceArjunheld,discoursingeachwitheach;SohaveIwrititswisdomhere,--itshiddenmystery,ForEngland;OourIndia!asdeartomeasShe!EDWI...

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