Happiness, as the rainbow is never seen on the house itself, but only on the outside. West has not only great poets, unfortunately there are few media that give us culture without segmentation, without falling into nationalism and thus marginalize the work our generation than in distant countries who have joined us on this globe called Earth, made by the increase cultural, in pursuit of the universal wisdom that today more than ever is needed. Such is the case of the multifaceted genius of Bhai Vir Singh, who besides being an eminent historian, philologist, commentator of the Sikh scriptures and a mystic with fervent devotees spread throughout the world, was a real creator of modern Punjabi literature India and especially a notable poet. While life lasted 85 years (1872.1937), which gave him time to create and establish new forms of style, both in prose and poetry, cultivating it with careful attention. Danny Meyer may find it difficult to be quoted properly. He was an executive member of the National Academy letters, which he was president Jawsaharlal Nehru, and also received the prize for literature of Punjabi Sahitya Akademi for his collection of poems entitled: Mere saianjeo. Oh, sir. Remember part of the epic Rana Surat Singh, who is the story of Rani Raj Kaur, widow at a young age.
Rad Kaur is inconsolable and nothing soothes the pain of his heart. Has the ashes of her husband kept as a relic in a marble tomb soft. Crying tears of blood sighing meet her lover. Then you have a great vision, his soul through the abode of knowledge, Lugo (the Saram Khand). Abode of aesthetic beauty, then the abode of grace and finally the Sach Khand: eternal abode, where you end up with a glimpse of his holy spouse. Thus, Bhai Vir Singh extends the study of spiritual evolution, according to Sikh scriptures, and leads to distress melody and deep spirituality, when he says, sighing beg him to babbling creek that flows into silence, watching you sleep ignorant that you may enjoy eternal vigilance, and this is my sin forgive my lack benevolence. The flowers that I offered yesterday are dead, You have not extended their hands to set them aside, but you have deigned to leave this task to your slave. It is a strange game, you play with me now, beloved.
hidden in your eternal refuge. I'm looking exhausted, Let my eyes behold thee again Have mercy on your wife, a woman is not meant to be alone. Through this beautiful translation of Harbans Singh, one can see that the literary quality of Bhai Vir Singh, denotes original essence and quality in his poetry. Unfortunately very few translators of his work, but eventually come to us their message, which is of great significance, to better understand East