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I am not talking about the Bible at all. I am talking about me. I am not confined by the Bible; I am not a slave to any scripture. I am totally free and I behave as a free man.

I love the Bible, the poetry of it, but I am not a Christian. Neither am I a Hindu, nor am I a Jaina. I am simply me. I love the poetry, but I sing it in my own way. Where I should emphasize what, is finally decided by me, not by the Bible. I love the spirit of it, not the letter. And the word that I translate sometimes as repent, sometimes as return, and sometimes as answer means all three things. That is the beauty of old languages. Sanskrit, Hebrew, Arabic: all the old languages are poetic. When you use a poetic language it means many things. It says more than the words contain and it can be interpreted in different ways. It has many levels of meaning.

Sometimes the word means repent. When I am talking about sin and I use the word repent, it means repent. When I am talking about God calling you, then the word repent means answer, it means responsibility: God has asked, you answer. And when I say that the kingdom is at hand, the word means return. All three meanings are there. The word is not one-dimensional, it is three-dimensional. All the old languages are three- dimensional. Modern languages are one-dimensional because our insistence is not on poetry, but on prose. Our insistence is not on multi-meaningfulness, but exactness. The word should be exact, it should only mean one thing so that there is no confusion. Yes, that’s right. If you are writing about science the language has to be exact, otherwise confusion is possible.

It happened in the Second World War: an American general wrote a letter to the emperor of Japan, before Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The letter was in English and it was translated into Japanese, which is more poetic, more flowery, and one word means many things. A certain word was translated in a certain way. It could have been translated in some other way also; it depended on the translator. Now they have been inquiring about it, and they have come to the conclusion that if it had been translated in the other way that was also possible, there would have been no Hiroshima and no Nagasaki.

The American general meant something else, but the way it was translated it was felt to be an insult. The Japanese emperor simply declined to answer it, it was too insulting. And Nagasaki and Hiroshima happened, the atom bomb had to be dropped. If the emperor had replied to it, there would have been no need for Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Just a word translated in a different way and one lakh people died within minutes, within seconds. Very costly – just a single word. Words can be dangerous.

In politics, in science, in economics, in history, words should be linear, one-dimensional. But if the whole language becomes one-dimensional, then religion will suffer very much, poetry will suffer very much, romance will suffer very much because for poetry a word should be multi-dimensional. It should mean many things so that the poetry has a depth and you can go on and on and on.

That’s the beauty of old books. You can go on reading the Gita every day, you can go on reading the gospels every day, and every day you can come upon a new and fresh meaning. You may have read the same passage a thousand times and it never occurred to you that this can be the meaning. But this morning it occurred; you were in a different mood, you were happy, flowing: a new meaning arises. Some day you are not so happy, not so flowing, the meaning changes. The meaning changes according to you, according to your mood and climate.

You carry an inner climate that goes on changing just like the outer climate. Have you watched it? Sometimes you are sad and you look at the moon and the moon looks sad, very sad. You are sad and a fragrance comes from the garden and it seems very sad. You look at the flowers: rather than making you happy, they make you heavy. Then in another moment you are happy, alive, flowing, smiling. The same fragrance comes and surrounds you, dances around you, and makes you tremendously happy. The same flower, and when you see it opening, something opens within you also. The same moon, and you cannot believe how much silence and how much beauty descends on you.

There is a deep participation: you become partners in some deep mystery. But it depends on you. The moon is the same, the flower is the same; it depends on you.

Old languages are very flowing. In Sanskrit there are words: one word can have twelve meanings. You can go on playing with it and it will reveal many things to you. It will change with you, it will always adjust to you. That’s why great works of classical literature are eternal. They are never exhausted.

Today’s newspaper will be worthless tomorrow because it has no vitality of meaning. It simply says what it means, it has nothing more in it. Tomorrow you will look foolish reading it. It is ordinary prose; it gives you information but it has no depth, it is flat.

Two thousand years have passed since Jesus spoke, and his words are still as alive and fresh as ever. They are never going to be old. They don’t age, they remain fresh and young. What is their secret? The secret is that they mean so many things that you can always find a new door in them. It is not a one-room apartment. Jesus says, “My God’s house has many mansions.” You can enter from many doors, and there are always new treasures to be revealed, to be discovered. You never come on the old landscape again. It has a certain infinity. That’s why I go on changing. Yes, whenever I feel, I change the meaning. But that is the way Jesus himself has done it.

In translating the Hebrew Bible into English, much has been lost. In translating the Gita into modern languages, much has been lost. In translating the Koran, the whole beauty is gone because the Koran is poetry. It is something to be sung, it is something you should dance with. It is not prose. Prose is not the way of religion; poetry is the way.

Remember this always and don’t get confined. Jesus is vast and the English Bible is very small.

I can understand the resistance of old people that their books should not be translated. It has a deep significance. You can translate prose, there is no trouble. If you want to translate a book on the theory of relativity into any language, it may be difficult but the difficulty is not the same as it is with the Bible, the Gita, or the Koran. It can be translated, nothing will be lost; it has no poetry in it.

But when you translate poetry, much will be lost because each language has its own rhythm and each language has its own ways of expression. Each language has its own meter and music; it cannot be translated into another language. That music will be missed, that rhythm will be missed. You will have to replace it with some other rhythm and some other music. So it is possible: ordinary poetry may be translated. But when the poetry is really superb, of the other world – the deeper and greater it is – the more difficult, almost impossible, it is.

I treat Jesus as a poet, and he is. Van Gogh said about him that he is the greatest artist that has ever been on this earth. He is. He talks in parables and poetry, and he means many more things than his words can convey. Allow me to give you the feeling of that infinity of meanings.

Poetry is not so clear, cannot be. It is a mystery. It is just early in the morning: all over you see a mist, fresh…just born, but clouds… You cannot see far away, but there is no need; poetry is not for the far away. It gives you an insight looking at the near and the close and the intimate.

Science goes on searching for the far away; poetry goes on revealing to you in new ways the intimate, the close: that which you had always known, that which is familiar. Poetry reveals the same path that you have been treading all your life, but with a new hue, a new color, a new light. Suddenly you are transported to a new plane.

I treat Jesus as a poet. He is a poet. And this has been much misunderstood. People go on treating him as a scientist. You are fools if you treat him as a scientist; then he will look absurd, then the whole thing will look miraculous. Then if you want to believe in him, you have to be very superstitious. Or you have to throw him out completely, the baby with the bath water. Because either he’s so absurd – you can believe, but then you have to believe very blindly and that belief cannot be natural, spontaneous; you have to force it, you have to believe for the sake of belief and you have to force it on yourself – or you throw him out completely. Both are wrong.

Jesus should be loved, not believed. There is no need to think of him for or against. Have you ever watched? – you never think for or against Shakespeare. Why? You never think for or against Kalidas. Why? You never think for and against Rabindranath. Why? – because you know they are poets. You enjoy them, you don’t think for and against.

With Jesus, Krishna, Buddha, you think for and against because you think they are arguing. Let me tell you: they are not arguing. They have no thesis to prove, they have no dogma. They are great poets – greater than Rabindranath, greater than Shakespeare, greater than Kalidas because what has happened to Rabindranath, Kalidas and Shakespeare is just a glimpse. What has happened to Jesus, Krishna and Buddha is a realization. The same that is a glimpse to a poet is reality to a mystic. They have seen. Not only seen, they have touched. Not only touched, they have lived. It is a live experience.

Always look at them as great artists. A painter simply paints a picture; a poet simply writes a poem. A Jesus creates a human being. A painter changes a canvas. It was plain, ordinary; it becomes precious by his touch. But can’t you see that Jesus touches very ordinary people – a fisherman, Simon called Peter – he touches, and by his very touch this man is transformed into a great apostle, a great human being. A height arises, a depth is opened. This man is no longer ordinary. He was just a fisherman throwing his net into the sea, and he would have done that his whole life, or even for many lives – and would never even have thought, imagined, dreamed what Jesus transformed into a reality.

In India we have a mythology about a stone called paras. The stone paras is alchemical. You touch iron with the paras and it is transformed into gold. Jesus is a paras. He touches ordinary metal and immediately the metal is transformed, it becomes gold. He transforms ordinary human beings into deities, and you don’t see the art in it. Greater art is not possible.

To me, the gospels are poetic. If I speak again on the same gospel, I will not speak the same, remember. I don’t know in what mood, in what climate, I will be then. I don’t know from which door I will enter then. And my house of God has many mansions. It is not finite.