The Immortal Friend

part of a poem by Jiddu Krishnamurti in his younger years (1928)


I sat dreaming in a room of great silence.
The early morning was still and breathless,
The great blue mountains stood against the dark
skies, cold and clear,
Round the dark log house
The black and yellow birds were welcoming the sun.

I sat on the floor, with legs crossed, meditating,
Forgetting the sunlit mountains,
The birds,
The immense silence,
And the golden sun.

I lost the feel of my body,
My limbs were motionless,
Relaxed and at peace.
A great joy of unfathomable depth filled my heart.
Eager and keen was my mind, concentrated.
Lost to the transient world,
I was full of strength.

As the Eastern breeze
That suddenly springs into being
And calms the weary world,
There in front of me
Seated cross-legged,
As the world knows Him
In His yellow robes, simple and magnificent,
Was the Teacher of Teachers.

Looking at me,
Motionless the Mighty Being sat.
I looked and bowed my head.
My body bent forward of itself.

That one look
Showed the progress of the world,
Showed the immense distance between the world
And the greatest of its Teachers.

How little it understood,
And how much He gave.
How joyously He soared,
Escaping from birth and death,
From its tyranny and entangling wheel.

Enlightenment attained,
He gave to the world, as the flower gives
Its scent,
The Truth.

As I looked
At the sacred feet that once trod the happy
Dust of India,
My heart poured forth its devotion,
Limitless and unfathomable,
Without restraint and without effort.