A few technical problems have delayed the publication of this translation into English of my previous post, ‘Le Miracle du Coffre-Fort’; as usual it is my blogger colleague Nina who is to be thanked for the Google translation that becomes my first draft…
(For those who prefer to read me … in French! please read my previous post, which is not a translation of what I wrote also already in English, those are the same events but conveyed in a different way.
I have currently no more French keyboard, for the reason that you will understand easily from the very subject of this writing. So forgive me this text without accents or cedilla, and much less easy to read).
I have been going through a strange period full of endless difficulties on the surface, yet in the depths, and scattered on my external life too, with few sudden loads of wonderful flowers, pure Divine Grace. Here is an example, that I spontaneously described at the time in the form, unusual for me. of a kind of poem, dated June 25, 2013, a few days after the event itself:
THE MIRACLE OF THE SAFE
When everyone’s asleep,
Takes off …
In the night
Of the early hours of day,
He robs you
Of anything – of value or not –
Which happened to attract him;
It was making your life easier
And what you looked at more pleasant
For its nice little beauty …
This beauty, he seizes,
This happiness he destroys it.
In your space he enters,
The slightest gap is sufficient to him
Because her body is slim and agile;
Beware fragile closures
He can force
To come in
Lights even all lit
To see better ‘
And better empty all your drawers.
This house that during twenty years
No one was able to enter
He manages to enter
And this is now his pass-time:
The house is no longer safe,
Night, the dark hours
One goes to bed,
Having checked everything …
But when comes the dawn,
“This time what will he have stolen?”
One wonders all the same …
After so many times – the fifth –
When everything seemed secure
And yet became his laughing-stock:
Thanks to this body and this face,
Every time he found another passage
However incredibly narrow
It was enough. How hard a message
That he was the cleverer one,
And we could do nothing against him!
But the day will come – the night –
When he can go through
Everything is reinforced,
Changed each time, repaired,
Whatever he managed to force;
And this morning I have seen him,
Standing in the shadows
At the end of the terrace;
At my cry
He turned away and fled
Sliding along an old sari
To the ground, without falling,
And disappeared in the darkness.
It was half past three.
Last night when getting asleep
I told myself to wake up
If the thief came again;
Congratulations and thanks to my body:
It faithfully obeyed me!
The thief was
To see me up at this time
When only the thieves are up!
Also, I would have liked to see his face,
He the clever one nothing stops,
When just a few nights ago,
Wanting a still fuller cup,
After hours of intense effort
He forced open the safe …
And found it… already emptied!
So had I decided in my own cleverness:
I had everything with me, serene …
At least for that, it’s me who wins,
And the donations or savings
That keep Repos alive are all
Untouched, undiscovered, hidden,
Always kept discretely with me
Wherever I go and wherever I am,
Until the almirah.
Soon also repaired, will be back.
Instead of crying, screaming,
I prayed, really prayed,
May the force be given me
To resist the panic
Faced with that unrelenting thief.
As for my poor house
That used to feel like my fortress,
My dear home, in its distress,
Feels now like a Gruyere full of holes
Through which the thief takes everything;
It starts to feel better,
To regain confidence in itself,
To become citadel again,
Impregnable as before,
Not sure of our Divine Protection? ..,
Then we both remember
The Miracle of the safe:
When thanks to a thin
– So thin –
Line of rust,
Gnawed by the salt air
All along the edge of the top,
Where it was not covered by protective fabric
This thief too smart,
Having seen that promising line.
After much effort
With the help of knives and levers
To slice open and pry apart the two sides of the steel
Succeeded in breaking the top of the metal cabinet.
This could have become tragic.
If he had succeeded immediately,
In his stride,
In also opening the safe inside,
It would have been an unprecedented misfortune:
I had all the money of Repos and the Guests,
And even more: put there along with the rest,
There was all the money for an essential work,
The small fortune, donated by a faithful friend,
For the publication finally of “The Magic Child”
And once again in English.
This wonderful gift
Was sitting there also, concealed wisely
In two small pretty bags of local fabric,
Like gold coins hidden in humble jars.
That night suddenly
In my room upstairs,
I woke up with dread in my heart
That those two little bags looking so innocuous
Were about to disappear for ever; a terrible vise
Was clutching my chest.
Able only to call the Divine Protection,
Overcome by exhaustion I went back to sleep.
In the morning, I could see just how the Enemy
Had indeed really tried everything possible
And had indeed been able to open the outside
But miraculously had missed his target:
Protected by a Divine Act
From a laughing Krishna
The safe was intact,
And, on the desk, lying, abandoned,
Incredibly, was precisely the key! …
Hardly able to believe it, fearing still the worst,
With this key of the safe I started to open it,
And when it was opened there was no longer any doubt:
Divine Protection does blind thieves,
Hiding to them the treasures visible on the highway ….
Everything was there, inside, and only waiting for me.
“Well, I told myself, it is truly useful to have faith! …”
He had the key in his hand, but he did not know it!
In seeking to open the metal cabinet
He had first tried this key
Hanging among others above;
It was not the right one, so he rejected it
Without in his brain the illuminating flash
Showing him the key as being the correct one,
Indeed, but for the safe inside!
To whom to tell my joy? There was no one with me.
But I closed my eyes, in pure delight,
Seeing the intervention of Krishna my Lover.
That is why I write
This is because, twice
Feeling weak and naked
My soul had called,
The Help came.
Everything could be so easy
If we always relied on That …
But we are fools!
Let’s recover the happy habit
Of faith and gratitude,
For the coming New World
Is the Real World, and in It all goes well…!