Gitanjali
This is the Collection of Poems by Rabindranath Tagore.
One of the greatest spiritual poets during the last century in
India.
He is well known leader and freedom fighter who stirred the
minds of Indians with his thoughts
He is often remembered for his collection named gitanjali.
Although language is in old English and meaning deep we can
identify the real feelings of a Spiritual Seeker.
I recommend this to everybody concerned about his spiritual
development and want to judge his own experiences.
These poems are written in Bengali and translated in English
here.
Lets Start the Dream Journey in Spiritual World of Tagore!
1: THE LITTLE FLUTE
Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail
vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with
fresh life.
This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales,
and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.
At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its
limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.
Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of
mine. Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room
to fill.
2: SONG FOR MY LORD
When thou commandest me to sing it seems that my heart
would break with pride; and I look to thy face, and tears come
to my eyes.
All that is harsh and dissonant in my life melts into one sweet
harmony - and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on
its flight across the sea.
I know thou takest pleasure in my singing. I know that only as
a singer I come before thy presence.
I touch by the edge of the far-spreading wing of my song thy
feet which I could never aspire to reach.
Drunk with the joy of singing I forget myself and call thee
friend who art my lord.
3: MUSIC OF LIFE
I know not how thou singest, my master! I ever listen in silent
amazement.
The light of thy music illumines the world. The life breath of
thy music runs from sky to sky. The holy stream of thy music
breaks through all stony obstacles and rushes on.
My heart longs to join in thy song, but vainly struggles for a
voice. I would speak, but speech breaks not into song, and I cry
out baffled. Ah, thou hast made my heart captive in the endless
meshes of thy music, my master!
4: PURITY
Life of my life, I shall ever try to keep my body pure, knowing
that thy living touch is upon all my limbs.
I shall ever try to keep all untruths out from my thoughts,
knowing that thou art that truth which has kindled the light of
reason in my mind.
I shall ever try to drive all evils away from my heart and keep
my love in flower, knowing that thou hast thy seat in the
inmost shrine of my heart.
And it shall be my endeavour to reveal thee in my actions,
knowing it is thy power gives me strength to act.
5: MOMENT'S INDULGENCE
I ask for a moment's indulgence to sit by thy side. The works
that I have in hand I will finish afterwards.
Away from the sight of thy face my heart knows no rest nor
respite, and my work becomes an endless toil in a shoreless
sea of toil.
Today the summer has come at my window with its sighs and
murmurs; and the bees are plying their minstrelsy at the court
of the flowering grove.
Now it is time to sit quite, face to face with thee, and to sing
dedication of live in this silent and overflowing leisure.
6: THE FLOWER
Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it droop
and drop into the dust.
I may not find a place in thy garland, but honour it with a
touch of pain from thy hand and pluck it. I fear lest the day end
before I am aware, and the time of offering go by.
Though its colour be not deep and its smell be faint, use this
flower in thy service and pluck it while there is time.
7: SONG UNDRESSED
My song has put off her adornments. She has no pride of dress
and decoration. Ornaments would mar our union; they would
come between thee and me; their jingling would drown thy
whispers.
My poet's vanity dies in shame before thy sight. O master poet,
I have sat down at thy feet. Only let me make my life simple
and straight, like a flute of reed for thee to fill with music.
8: THE BONDAGE OF FINERY
The child who is decked with prince's robes and who has
jewelled chains round his neck loses all pleasure in his play;
his dress hampers him at every step.
In fear that it may be frayed, or stained with dust he keeps
himself from the world, and is afraid even to move.
Mother, it is no gain, thy bondage of finery, if it keeps one shut
off from the healthful dust of the earth, if it rob one of the right
of entrance to the great fair of common human life.
9: THE FOOL AND THE BEGGAR
O Fool, try to carry thyself upon thy own shoulders! O beggar,
to come beg at thy own door!
Leave all thy burdens on his hands who can bear all, and never
look behind in regret.
Thy desire at once puts out the light from the lamp it touches
with its breath. It is unholy - take not thy gifts through its
unclean hands. Accept only what is offered by sacred love.
10: THE POOREST, THE LOWLIEST AND THE LOST
Here is thy footstool and there rest thy feet where live the
poorest, and lowliest, and lost.
When I try to bow to thee, my obeisance cannot reach down to
the depth where thy feet rest among the poorest, and lowliest,
and lost.
Pride can never approach to where thou walkest in the clothes
of the humble among the poorest, and lowliest, and lost.
My heart can never find its way to where thou keepest
company with the companionless among the poorest, the
lowliest, and the lost.
11: OPEN THINE EYES
Leave this chanting and singing and telling of beads! Whom
dost thou worship in this lonely dark corner of a temple with
doors all shut? Open thine eyes and see thy God is not before
thee!
He is there where the tiller is tilling the hard ground and
where the pathmaker is breaking stones. He is with them in
sun and in shower, and his garment is covered with dust. Put
of thy holy mantle and even like him come down on the dusty
soil!
Deliverance? Where is this deliverance to be found? Our
master himself has joyfully taken upon him the bonds of
creation; he is bound with us all for ever.
Come out of thy meditations and leave aside thy flowers and
incense! What harm is there if thy clothes become tattered and
stained? Meet him and stand by him in toil and in sweat of thy
brow.
12: DISTANT JOURNEY
The time that my journey takes is long and the way of it long.
I came out on the chariot of the first gleam of light, and
pursued my voyage through the wildernesses of worlds
leaving my track on many a star and planet.
It is the most distant course that comes nearest to thyself, and
that training is the most intricate which leads to the utter
simplicity of a tune.
The traveller has to knock at every alien door to come to his
own, and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to
reach the innermost shrine at the end.
My eyes strayed far and wide before I shut them and said
`Here art thou!'
The question and the cry `Oh, where?' melt into tears of a
thousand streams and deluge the world with the flood of the
assurance `I am!'
13: SONG UNSUNG
The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day.
I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my
instrument.
The time has not come true, the words have not been rightly
set; only there is the agony of wishing in my heart.
The blossom has not opened; only the wind is sighing by.
I have not seen his face, nor have I listened to his voice; only I
have heard his gentle footsteps from the road before my house.
The livelong day has passed in spreading his seat on the floor;
but the lamp has not been lit and I cannot ask him into my
house.
I live in the hope of meeting with him; but this meeting is not
yet.
14: STRONG MERCY
My desires are many and my cry is pitiful, but ever didst thou
save me by hard refusals; and this strong mercy has been
wrought into my life through and through.
Day by day thou art making me worthy of the simple, great
gifts that thou gavest to me unasked - this sky and the light,
this body and the life and the mind - saving me from perils of
overmuch desire.
There are times when I languidly linger and times when I
awaken and hurry in search of my goal; but cruelly thou
hidest thyself from before me.
Day by day thou art making me worthy of thy full acceptance
by refusing me ever and anon, saving me from perils of weak,
uncertain desire.
15: HONOUR ME TO SING
I am here to sing thee songs. In this hall of thine I have a
corner seat.
In thy world I have no work to do; my useless life can only
break out in tunes without a purpose.
When the hour strikes for thy silent worship at the dark temple
of midnight, command me, my master, to stand before thee to
sing.
When in the morning air the golden harp is tuned, honour me,
commanding my presence.
16: THE INVITATION
I have had my invitation to this world's festival, and thus my
life has been blessed. My eyes have seen and my ears have
heard.
It was my part at this feast to play upon my instrument, and I
have done all I could.
Now, I ask, has the time come at last when I may go in and see
thy face and offer thee my silent salutation?
17: WAITING FOR LOVE
I am only waiting for love to give myself up at last into his
hands. That is why it is so late and why I have been guilty of
such omissions.
They come with their laws and their codes to bind me fast; but
I evade them ever, for I am only waiting for love to give myself
up at last into his hands.
People blame me and call me heedless; I doubt not they are
right in their blame.
The market day is over and work is all done for the busy.
Those who came to call me in vain have gone back in anger. I
am only waiting for love to give myself up at last into his
hands.
18: DARKENING SKIES
Clouds heap upon clouds and it darkens. Ah, love, why dost
thou let me wait outside at the door all alone?
In the busy moments of the noontide work I am with the
crowd, but on this dark lonely day it is only for thee that I
hope.
If thou showest me not thy face, if thou leavest me wholly
aside, I know not how I am to pass these long, rainy hours.
I keep gazing on the far-away gloom of the sky, and my heart
wanders wailing with the restless wind.
19: PATIENCE
If thou speakest not I will fill my heart with thy silence and
endure it. I will keep still and wait like the night with starry
vigil and its head bent low with patience.
The morning will surely come, the darkness will vanish, and
thy voice pour down in golden streams breaking through the
sky.
Then thy words will take wing in songs from every one of my
birds' nests, and thy melodies will break forth in flowers in all
my forest groves.
20: THE LOTUS FLOWER
On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind was
straying, and I knew it not. My basket was empty and the
flower remained unheeded.
Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up
from my dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange fragrance in
the south wind.
That vague sweetness made my heart ache with longing and it
seemed to me that is was the eager breath of the summer
seeking for its completion.
I knew not then that it was so near, that it was mine, and that
this perfect sweetness had blossomed in the depth of my own
heart.
21: AUTUMN'S BOAT
I must launch out my boat. The languid hours pass by on the
shore - Alas for me!
The spring has done its flowering and taken leave. And now
with the burden of faded futile flowers I wait and linger.
The waves have become clamorous, and upon the bank in the
shady lane the yellow leaves flutter and fall.
What emptiness do you gaze upon! Do you not feel a thrill
passing through the air with the notes of the far-away song
floating from the other shore?
22: JULY
In the deep shadows of the rainy July, with secret steps, thou
walkest, silent as night, eluding all watchers.
Today the morning has closed its eyes, heedless of the insistent
calls of the loud east wind, and a thick veil has been drawn
over the ever-wakeful blue sky.
The woodlands have hushed their songs, and doors are all shut
at every house. Thou art the solitary wayfarer in this deserted
street. Oh my only friend, my best beloved, the gates are open
in my house - do not pass by like a dream.
23: MY FRIEND
Art thou abroad on this stormy night on thy journey of love,
my friend? The sky groans like one in despair.
I have no sleep tonight. Ever and again I open my door and
look out on the darkness, my friend!
I can see nothing before me. I wonder where lies thy path!
By what dim shore of the ink-black river, by what far edge of
the frowning forest, through what mazy depth of gloom art
thou threading thy course to come to me, my friend?
24: WHEN DAY IS DONE
If the day is done, if birds sing no more, if the wind has flagged
tired, then draw the veil of darkness thick upon me, even as
thou hast wrapt the earth with the coverlet of sleep and
tenderly closed the petals of the drooping lotus at dusk.
From the traveller, whose sack of provisions is empty before
the voyage is ended, whose garment is torn and dustladen,
whose strength is exhausted, remove shame and poverty, and
renew his life like a flower under the cover of thy kindly night.
25: BLESSED SLEEP
In the night of weariness let me give myself up to sleep without
struggle, resting my trust upon thee.
Let me not force my flagging spirit into a poor preparation for
thy worship.
It is thou who drawest the veil of night upon the tired eyes of
the day to renew its sight in a fresher gladness of awakening.
26: CURSED SLEEP
He came and sat by my side but I woke not. What a cursed
sleep it was, O miserable me!
He came when the night was still; he had his harp in his hands,
and my dreams became resonant with its melodies.
Alas, why are my nights all thus lost? Ah, why do I ever miss
his sight whose breath touches my sleep?
27: LAMP OF LOVE
Light, oh where is the light? Kindle it with the burning fire of
desire!
There is the lamp but never a flicker of a flame - is such thy
fate, my heart? Ah, death were better by far for thee!
Misery knocks at thy door, and her message is that thy lord is
wakeful, and he calls thee to the love-tryst through the
darkness of night.
The sky is overcast with clouds and the rain is ceaseless. I
know not what this is that stirs in me - I know not its meaning.
A moment's flash of lightning drags down a deeper gloom on
my sight, and my heart gropes for the path to where the music
of the night calls me.
Light, oh where is the light! Kindle it with the burning fire of
desire! It thunders and the wind rushes screaming through the
void. The night is black as a black stone. Let not the hours pass
by in the dark. Kindle the lamp of love with thy life.
28: FREEDOM
Obstinate are the trammels, but my heart aches when I try to
break them.
Freedom is all I want, but to hope for it I feel ashamed.
I am certain that priceless wealth is in thee, and that thou art
my best friend, but I have not the heart to sweep away the
tinsel that fills my room
The shroud that covers me is a shroud of dust and death; I hate
it, yet hug it in love.
My debts are large, my failures great, my shame secret and
heavy; yet when I come to ask for my good, I quake in fear lest
my prayer be granted.
29: MY DUNGEON
He whom I enclose with my name is weeping in this dungeon. I
am ever busy building this wall all around; and as this wall
goes up into the sky day by day I lose sight of my true being in
its dark shadow.
I take pride in this great wall, and I plaster it with dust and
sand lest a least hole should be left in this name; and for all the
care I take I lose sight of my true being.
30: MY STRANGER SELF
I came out alone on my way to my tryst. But who is this that
follows me in the silent dark?
I move aside to avoid his presence but I escape him not.
He makes the dust rise from the earth with his swagger; he
adds his loud voice to every word that I utter.
He is my own little self, my lord, he knows no shame; but I am
ashamed to come to thy door in his company.
31: THE PRISONER
`Prisoner, tell me, who was it that bound you?'
`It was my master,' said the prisoner. `I thought I could outdo
everybody in the world in wealth and power, and I amassed in
my own treasure-house the money due to my king. When sleep
overcame me I lay upon the bad that was for my lord, and on
waking up I found I was a prisoner in my own treasure-house.'
`Prisoner, tell me, who was it that wrought this unbreakable
chain?'
`It was I,' said the prisoner, `who forged this chain very
carefully. I thought my invincible power would hold the world
captive leaving me in a freedom undisturbed. Thus night and
day I worked at the chain with huge fires and cruel hard
strokes. When at last the work was done and the links were
complete and unbreakable, I found that it held me in its grip.'
32: FREE LOVE
By all means they try to hold me secure who love me in this
world. But it is otherwise with thy love which is greater than
theirs, and thou keepest me free.
Lest I forget them they never venture to leave me alone. But
day passes by after day and thou art not seen.
If I call not thee in my prayers, if I keep not thee in my heart,
thy love for me still waits for my love.
33: GREED
When it was day they came into my house and said, `We shall
only take the smallest room here.'
They said, `We shall help you in the worship of your God and
humbly accept only our own share in his grace'; and then they
took their seat in a corner and they sat quiet and meek.
But in the darkness of night I find they break into my sacred
shrine, strong and turbulent, and snatch with unholy greed
the offerings from God's altar.
34: LITTLE OF ME
Let only that little be left of me whereby I may name thee my
all.
Let only that little be left of my will whereby I may feel thee on
every side, and come to thee in everything, and offer to thee
my love every moment.
Let only that little be left of me whereby I may never hide thee.
Let only that little of my fetters be left whereby I am bound
with thy will, and thy purpose is carried out in my life - and
that is the fetter of thy love.
35: MIND WITHOUT FEAR
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by
narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the
dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening
thought and action -
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
36: GIVE ME STRENGTH
This is my prayer to thee, my lord - strike, strike at the root of
penury in my heart.
Give me the strength lightly to bear my joys and sorrows.
Give me the strength to make my love fruitful in service.
Give me the strength never to disown the poor or bend my
knees before insolent might.
Give me the strength to raise my mind high above daily trifles.
And give me the strength to surrender my strength to thy will
with love.
37: INFINITE VOYAGE
I thought that my voyage had come to its end at the last limit
of my power, - that the path before me was closed, that
provisions were exhausted and the time come to take shelter in
a silent obscurity.
But I find that thy will knows no end in me. And when old
words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from
the heart; and where the old tracks are lost, new country is
revealed with its wonders.
38: ONLY THEE I WANT
That I want thee, only thee - let my heart repeat without end.
All desires that distract me, day and night, are false and empty
to the core.
As the night keeps hidden in its gloom the petition for light,
even thus in the depth of my unconsciousness rings the cry - `I
want thee, only thee'.
As the storm still seeks its end in peace when it strikes against
peace with all its might, even thus my rebellion strikes against
thy love and still its cry is - `I want thee, only thee'.
39: SET ME FREE
When the heart is hard and parched up, come upon me with a
shower of mercy.
When grace is lost from life, come with a burst of song.
When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides shutting me
out from beyond, come to me, my lord of silence, with thy
peace and rest.
When my beggarly heart sits crouched, shut up in a corner,
break open the door, my king, and come with the ceremony of
a king.
When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust, O thou
holy one, thou wakeful, come with thy light and thy thunder.
40: STORMS
The rain has held back for days and days, my God, in my arid
heart. The horizon is fiercely naked - not the thinnest cover of a
soft cloud, not the vaguest hint of a distant cool shower.
Send thy angry storm, dark with death, if it is thy wish, and
with lashes of lightning startle the sky from end to end.
But call back, my lord, call back this pervading silent heat, still
and keen and cruel, burning the heart with dire despair.
Let the cloud of grace bend low from above like the tearful look
of the mother on the day of the father's wrath.
41: THE COMING
Where dost thou stand behind them all, my lover, hiding
thyself in the shadows? They push thee and pass thee by on the
dusty road, taking thee for naught. I wait here weary hours
spreading my offerings for thee, while passers-by come and
take my flowers, one by one, and my basket is nearly empty.
The morning time is past, and the noon. In the shade of
evening my eyes are drowsy with sleep. Men going home
glance at me and smile and fill me with shame. I sit like a
beggar maid, drawing my skirt over my face, and when they
ask me, what it is I want, I drop my eyes and answer them not.
Oh, how, indeed, could I tell them that for thee I wait, and that
thou hast promised to come. How could I utter for shame that I
keep for my dowry this poverty. Ah, I hug this pride in the
secret of my heart.
I sit on the grass and gaze upon the sky and dream of the
sudden splendour of thy coming - all the lights ablaze, golden
pennons flying over thy car, and they at the roadside standing
agape, when they see thee come down from thy seat to raise
me from the dust, and set at thy side this ragged beggar girl atremble
with shame and pride, like a creeper in a summer
breeze.
But time glides on and still no sound of the wheels of thy
chariot. Many a procession passes by with noise and shouts
and glamour of glory. Is it only thou who wouldst stand in the
shadow silent and behind them all? And only I who would wait
and weep and wear out my heart in vain longing?
42: SAIL AWAY
Early in the day it was whispered that we should sail in a boat,
only thou and I, and never a soul in the world would know of
this our pilgrimage to no country and to no end.
In that shoreless ocean, at thy silently listening smile my
songs would swell in melodies, free as waves, free from all
bondage of words.
Is the time not come yet? Are there works still to do? Lo, the
evening has come down upon the shore and in the fading light
the seabirds come flying to their nests.
Who knows when the chains will be off, and the boat, like the
last glimmer of sunset, vanish into the night?
43: SIGNET OF ETERNITY
The day was when I did not keep myself in readiness for thee;
and entering my heart unbidden even as one of the common
crowd, unknown to me, my king, thou didst press the signet of
eternity upon many a fleeting moment of my life.
And today when by chance I light upon them and see thy
signature, I find they have lain scattered in the dust mixed
with the memory of joys and sorrows of my trivial days
forgotten.
Thou didst not turn in contempt from my childish play among
dust, and the steps that I heard in my playroom are the same
that are echoing from star to star.
44: WHERE SHADOW CHASES LIGHT
This is my delight, thus to wait and watch at the wayside
where shadow chases light and the rain comes in the wake of
the summer.
Messengers, with tidings from unknown skies, greet me and
speed along the road. My heart is glad within, and the breath
of the passing breeze is sweet.
From dawn till dusk I sit here before my door, and I know that
of a sudden the happy moment will arrive when I shall see.
In the meanwhile I smile and I sing all alone. In the meanwhile
the air is filling with the perfume of promise.
45: SILENT STEPS
Have you not heard his silent steps? He comes, comes, ever
comes.
Every moment and every age, every day and every night he
comes, comes, ever comes.
Many a song have I sung in many a mood of mind, but all their
notes have always proclaimed, `He comes, comes, ever comes.'
In the fragrant days of sunny April through the forest path he
comes, comes, ever comes.
In the rainy gloom of July nights on the thundering chariot of
clouds he comes, comes, ever comes.
In sorrow after sorrow it is his steps that press upon my heart,
and it is the golden touch of his feet that makes my joy to
shine.
46: DISTANT TIME
I know not from what distant time thou art ever coming nearer
to meet me. Thy sun and stars can never keep thee hidden from
me for aye.
In many a morning and eve thy footsteps have been heard and
thy messenger has come within my heart and called me in
secret.
I know not only why today my life is all astir, and a feeling of
tremulous joy is passing through my heart.
It is as if the time were come to wind up my work, and I feel in
the air a faint smell of thy sweet presence.
47: PRECIOUS SLEEP
The night is nearly spent waiting for him in vain. I fear lest in
the morning he suddenly come to my door when I have fallen
asleep wearied out. Oh friends, leave the way open to him -
forbid him not.
If the sounds of his steps does not wake me, do not try to rouse
me, I pray. I wish not to be called from my sleep by the
clamorous choir of birds, by the riot of wind at the festival of
morning light. Let me sleep undisturbed even if my lord comes
of a sudden to my door.
Ah, my sleep, precious sleep, which only waits for his touch to
vanish. Ah, my closed eyes that would open their lids only to
the light of his smile when he stands before me like a dream
emerging from darkness of sleep.
Let him appear before my sight as the first of all lights and all
forms. The first thrill of joy to my awakened soul let it come
from his glance. And let my return to myself be immediate
return to him.
48: THE JOURNEY
The morning sea of silence broke into ripples of bird songs;
and the flowers were all merry by the roadside; and the wealth
of gold was scattered through the rift of the clouds while we
busily went on our way and paid no heed.
We sang no glad songs nor played; we went not to the village
for barter; we spoke not a word nor smiled; we lingered not on
the way. We quickened our pace more and more as the time
sped by.
The sun rose to the mid sky and doves cooed in the shade.
Withered leaves danced and whirled in the hot air of noon. The
shepherd boy drowsed and dreamed in the shadow of the
banyan tree, and I laid myself down by the water and
stretched my tired limbs on the grass.
My companions laughed at me in scorn; they held their heads
high and hurried on; they never looked back nor rested; they
vanished in the distant blue haze. They crossed many
meadows and hills, and passed through strange, far-away
countries. All honour to you, heroic host of the interminable
path! Mockery and reproach pricked me to rise, but found no
response in me. I gave myself up for lost in the depth of a glad
humiliation - in the shadow of a dim delight.
The repose of the sun-embroidered green gloom slowly spread
over my heart. I forgot for what I had travelled, and I
surrendered my mind without struggle to the maze of shadows
and songs.
At last, when I woke from my slumber and opened my eyes, I
saw thee standing by me, flooding my sleep with thy smile.
How I had feared that the path was long and wearisome, and
the struggle to reach thee was hard!
49: MY COTTAGE DOOR
You came down from your throne and stood at my cottage
door.
I was singing all alone in a corner, and the melody caught
your ear. You came down and stood at my cottage door.
Masters are many in your hall, and songs are sung there at all
hours. But the simple carol of this novice struck at your love.
One plaintive little strain mingled with the great music of the
world, and with a flower for a prize you came down and
stopped at my cottage door.
50: THE PARABLE OF GIVING
I had gone a-begging from door to door in the village path,
when thy golden chariot appeared in the distance like a
gorgeous dream and I wondered who was this King of all
kings!
My hopes rose high and methought my evil days were at an
end, and I stood waiting for alms to be given unasked and for
wealth scattered on all sides in the dust.
The chariot stopped where I stood. Thy glance fell on me and
thou camest down with a smile. I felt that the luck of my life
had come at last. Then of a sudden thou didst hold out thy
right hand and say `What hast thou to give to me?'
Ah, what a kingly jest was it to open thy palm to a beggar to
beg! I was confused and stood undecided, and then from my
wallet I slowly took out the least little grain of corn and gave it
to thee.
But how great my surprise when at the day's end I emptied my
bag on the floor to find a least little gram of gold among the
poor heap. I bitterly wept and wished that I had had the heart
to give thee my all.
51: THE COMING OF THE KING
The night darkened. Our day's works had been done. We
thought that the last guest had arrived for the night and the
doors in the village were all shut. Only some said the king was
to come. We laughed and said `No, it cannot be!'
It seemed there were knocks at the door and we said it was
nothing but the wind. We put out the lamps and lay down to
sleep. Only some said, `It is the messenger!' We laughed and
said `No, it must be the wind!'
There came a sound in the dead of the night. We sleepily
thought it was the distant thunder. The earth shook, the walls
rocked, and it troubled us in our sleep. Only some said it was
the sound of wheels. We said in a drowsy murmur, `No, it must
be the rumbling of clouds!'
The night was still dark when the drum sounded. The voice
came `Wake up! delay not!' We pressed our hands on our
hearts and shuddered with fear. Some said, `Lo, there is the
king's flag!' We stood up on our feet and cried `There is no time
for delay!'
The king has come - but where are lights, where are wreaths?
Where is the throne to seat him? Oh, shame! Oh utter shame!
Where is the hall, the decorations? Someone has said, `Vain is
this cry! Greet him with empty hands, lead him into thy rooms
all bare!'
Open the doors, let the conch-shells be sounded! in the depth of
the night has come the king of our dark, dreary house. The
thunder roars in the sky. The darkness shudders with
lightning. Bring out thy tattered piece of mat and spread it in
the courtyard. With the storm has come of a sudden our king
of the fearful night.
52: THE SWORD
I thought I should ask of thee - but I dared not - the rose wreath
thou hadst on thy neck. Thus I waited for the morning, when
thou didst depart, to find a few fragments on the bed. And like
a beggar I searched in the dawn only for a stray petal or two.
Ah me, what is it I find? What token left of thy love? It is no
flower, no spices, no vase of perfumed water. It is thy mighty
sword, flashing as a flame, heavy as a bolt of thunder. The
young light of morning comes through the window and spread
itself upon thy bed. The morning bird twitters and asks,
`Woman, what hast thou got?' No, it is no flower, nor spices,
nor vase of perfumed water - it is thy dreadful sword.
I sit and muse in wonder, what gift is this of thine. I can find no
place to hide it. I am ashamed to wear it, frail as I am, and it
hurts me when press it to my bosom. Yet shall I bear in my
heart this honour of the burden of pain, this gift of thine.
From now there shall be no fear left for me in this world, and
thou shalt be victorious in all my strife. Thou hast left death
for my companion and I shall crown him with my life. Thy
sword is with me to cut asunder my bonds, and there shall be
no fear left for me in the world.
From now I leave off all petty decorations. Lord of my heart,
no more shall there be for me waiting and weeping in corners,
no more coyness and sweetness of demeanour. Thou hast given
me thy sword for adornment. No more doll's decorations for
me!
53: VISHNU
Beautiful is thy wristlet, decked with stars and cunningly
wrought in myriad-coloured jewels. But more beautiful to me
thy sword with its curve of lightning like the outspread wings
of the divine bird of Vishnu, perfectly poised in the angry red
light of the sunset.
It quivers like the one last response of life in ecstasy of pain at
the final stroke of death; it shines like the pure flame of being
burning up earthly sense with one fierce flash.
Beautiful is thy wristlet, decked with starry gems; but thy
sword, O lord of thunder, is wrought with uttermost beauty,
terrible to behold or think of.
54: WATER
I asked nothing from thee; I uttered not my name to thine ear.
When thou took'st thy leave I stood silent. I was alone by the
well where the shadow of the tree fell aslant, and the women
had gone home with their brown earthen pitchers full to the
brim. They called me and shouted, `Come with us, the morning
is wearing on to noon.' But I languidly lingered awhile lost in
the midst of vague musings.
I heard not thy steps as thou camest. Thine eyes were sad
when they fell on me; thy voice was tired as thou spokest low -
`Ah, I am a thirsty traveller.' I started up from my day-dreams
and poured water from my jar on thy joined palms. The leaves
rustled overhead; the cuckoo sang from the unseen dark, and
perfume of babla flowers came from the bend of the road.
I stood speechless with shame when my name thou didst ask.
Indeed, what had I done for thee to keep me in remembrance?
But the memory that I could give water to thee to allay thy
thirst will cling to my heart and enfold it in sweetness. The
morning hour is late, the bird sings in weary notes, neem
leaves rustle overhead and I sit and think and think.
55: WAKE, OH AWAKEN!
Languor is upon your heart and the slumber is still on your
eyes.
Has not the word come to you that the flower is reigning in
splendour among thorns? Wake, oh awaken! let not the time
pass in vain!
At the end of the stony path, in the country of virgin solitude,
my friend is sitting all alone. Deceive him not. Wake, oh
awaken!
What if the sky pants and trembles with the heat of the midday
sun - what if the burning sand spreads its mantle of thirst -
Is there no joy in the deep of your heart? At every footfall of
yours, will not the harp of the road break out in sweet music of
pain?
56: MY PARTNER THE LORD
Thus it is that thy joy in me is so full. Thus it is that thou hast
come down to me. O thou lord of all heavens, where would be
thy love if I were not?
Thou hast taken me as thy partner of all this wealth. In my
heart is the endless play of thy delight. In my life thy will is
ever taking shape.
And for this, thou who art the King of kings hast decked thyself
in beauty to captivate my heart. And for this thy love loses
itself in the love of thy lover, and there art thou seen in the
perfect union of two.
57: LIGHT
Light, my light, the world-filling light, the eye-kissing light,
heart-sweetening light!
Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the centre of my life; the
light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love; the sky opens,
the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth.
The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light. Lilies and
jasmines surge up on the crest of the waves of light.
The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling, and
it scatters gems in profusion.
Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling, and gladness
without measure. The heaven's river has drowned its banks
and the flood of joy is abroad.
58: JOY
Let all the strains of joy mingle in my last song - the joy that
makes the earth flow over in the riotous excess of the grass, the
joy that sets the twin brothers, life and death, dancing over the
wide world, the joy that sweeps in with the tempest, shaking
and waking all life with laughter, the joy that sits still with its
tears on the open red lotus of pain, and the joy that throws
everything it has upon the dust, and knows not a word.
59: PASSING BREEZE
Yes, I know, this is nothing but thy love, O beloved of my heart
- this golden light that dances upon the leaves, these idle
clouds sailing across the sky, this passing breeze leaving its
coolness upon my forehead.
The morning light has flooded my eyes - this is thy message to
my heart. Thy face is bent from above, thy eyes look down on
my eyes, and my heart has touched thy feet.
60: SEASHORE
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. The infinite
sky is motionless overhead and the restless water is
boisterous. On the seashore of endless worlds the children
meet with shouts and dances.
They build their houses with sand and they play with empty
shells. With withered leaves they weave their boats and
smilingly float them on the vast deep. Children have their play
on the seashore of worlds.
They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets.
Pearl fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships,
while children gather pebbles and scatter them again. they
seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.
The sea surges up with laughter and pale gleams the smile of
the sea beach. Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads
to the children, even like a mother while rocking her baby's
cradle. The sea plays with children, and pale gleams the smile
of the sea beach.
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. Tempest
roams in the pathless sky, ships get wrecked in the trackless
water, death is abroad and children play. On the seashore of
endless worlds is the great meeting of children.
61: A BABY SLEEPS
The sleep that flits on baby's eyes - does anybody know from
where it comes? Yes, there is a rumour that it has its dwelling
where, in the fairy village among shadows of the forest dimly
lit with glow-worms, there hang two timid buds of
enchantment. From there it comes to kiss baby's eyes.
The smile that flickers on baby's lips when he sleeps - does
anybody know where it was born? Yes, there is a rumour that
a young pale beam of a crescent moon touched the edge of a
vanishing autumn cloud, and there the smile was first born in
the dream of a dew-washed morning - the smile that flickers on
baby's lips when he sleeps.
The sweet, soft freshness that blooms on baby's limbs - does
anybody know where it was hidden so long? Yes, when the
mother was a young girl it lay pervading her heart in tender
and silent mystery of love - the sweet, soft freshness that has
bloomed on baby's limbs.
62: I GIVE TO YOU
When I bring to you coloured toys, my child, I understand why
there is such a play of colours on clouds, on water, and why
flowers are painted in tints - when I give coloured toys to you,
my child.
When I sing to make you dance I truly know why there is
music in leaves, and why waves send their chorus of voices to
the heart of the listening earth - when I sing to make you
dance.
When I bring sweet things to your greedy hands I know why
there is honey in the cup of the flowers and why fruits are
secretly filled with sweet juice - when I bring sweet things to
your greedy hands.
When I kiss your face to make you smile, my darling, I surely
understand what pleasure streams from the sky in morning
light, and what delight that is which the summer breeze brings
to my body - when I kiss you to make you smile.
63: OLD AND NEW
Thou hast made me known to friends whom I knew not. Thou
hast given me seats in homes not my own. Thou hast brought
the distant near and made a brother of the stranger.
I am uneasy at heart when I have to leave my accustomed
shelter; I forget that there abides the old in the new, and that
there also thou abidest.
Through birth and death, in this world or in others, wherever
thou leadest me it is thou, the same, the one companion of my
endless life who ever linkest my heart with bonds of joy to the
unfamiliar.
When one knows thee, then alien there is none, then no door is
shut. Oh, grant me my prayer that I may never lose the bliss of
the touch of the one in the play of many.
64: THE MAIDEN'S LAMP
On the slope of the desolate river among tall grasses I asked
her, `Maiden, where do you go shading your lamp with your
mantle? My house is all dark and lonesome - lend me your
light!' she raised her dark eyes for a moment and looked at my
face through the dusk. `I have come to the river,' she said, `to
float my lamp on the stream when the daylight wanes in the
west.' I stood alone among tall grasses and watched the timid
flame of her lamp uselessly drifting in the tide.
In the silence of gathering night I asked her, `Maiden, your
lights are all lit - then where do you go with your lamp? My
house is all dark and lonesome - lend me your light.' She raised
her dark eyes on my face and stood for a moment doubtful. `I
have come,' she said at last, `to dedicate my lamp to the sky.' I
stood and watched her light uselessly burning in the void.
In the moonless gloom of midnight I ask her, `Maiden, what is
your quest, holding the lamp near your heart? My house is all
dark and lonesome - lend me your light.' She stopped for a
minute and thought and gazed at my face in the dark. `I have
brought my light,' she said, `to join the carnival of lamps.' I
stood and watched her little lamp uselessly lost among lights.
65: THE CUP OF LIFE
What divine drink wouldst thou have, my God, from this
overflowing cup of my life?
My poet, is it thy delight to see thy creation through my eyes
and to stand at the portals of my ears silently to listen to thine
own eternal harmony?
Thy world is weaving words in my mind and thy joy is adding
music to them. Thou givest thyself to me in love and then
feelest thine own entire sweetness in me.
66: THE WOMAN IN MY SOUL
She who ever had remained in the depth of my being, in the
twilight of gleams and of glimpses; she who never opened her
veils in the morning light, will be my last gift to thee, my God,
folded in my final song.
Words have wooed yet failed to win her; persuasion has
stretched to her its eager arms in vain.
I have roamed from country to country keeping her in the core
of my heart, and around her have risen and fallen the growth
and decay of my life.
Over my thoughts and actions, my slumbers and dreams, she
reigned yet dwelled alone and apart.
Many a man knocked at my door and asked for her and turned
away in despair.
There was none in the world who ever saw her face to face, and
she remained in her loneliness waiting for thy recognition.
67: NEVER A WORD
Thou art the sky and thou art the nest as well.
O thou beautiful, there in the nest is thy love that encloses the
soul with colours and sounds and odours.
There comes the morning with the golden basket in her right
hand bearing the wreath of beauty, silently to crown the earth.
And there comes the evening over the lonely meadows deserted
by herds, through trackless paths, carrying cool draughts of
peace in her golden pitcher from the western ocean of rest.
But there, where spreads the infinite sky for the soul to take
her flight in, reigns the stainless white radiance. There is no
day nor night, nor form nor colour, and never, never a word.
68: THE SUNBEAM
Thy sunbeam comes upon this earth of mine with arms
outstretched and stands at my door the livelong day to carry
back to thy feet clouds made of my tears and sighs and songs.
With fond delight thou wrappest about thy starry breast that
mantle of misty cloud, turning it into numberless shapes and
folds and colouring it with hues everchanging.
It is so light and so fleeting, tender and tearful and dark, that
is why thou lovest it, O thou spotless and serene. And that is
why it may cover thy awful white light with its pathetic
shadows.
69: STREAM OF LIFE
The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and
day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.
It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the
earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into
tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.
It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth and
of death, in ebb and in flow.
I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of
life. And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my
blood this moment.
70: PROGRESSION
Is it beyond thee to be glad with the gladness of this rhythm?
To be tossed and lost and broken in the whirl of this fearful
joy?
All things rush on, they stop not, they look not behind, no
power can hold them back, they rush on.
Keeping steps with that restless, rapid music, seasons come
dancing and pass away - colours, tunes, and perfumes pour in
endless cascades in the abounding joy that scatters and gives
up and dies every moment.
71: MAYA
That I should make much of myself and turn it on all sides,
thus casting coloured shadows on thy radiance - such is thy
maya.
Thou settest a barrier in thine own being and then callest thy
severed self in myriad notes. This thy self-separation has taken
body in me.
The poignant song is echoed through all the sky in manycoloured
tears and smiles, alarms and hopes; waves rise up
and sink again, dreams break and form. In me is thy own
defeat of self.
This screen that thou hast raised is painted with innumerable
figures with the brush of the night and the day. Behind it thy
seat is woven in wondrous mysteries of curves, casting away
all barren lines of straightness.
The great pageant of thee and me has overspread the sky. With
the tune of thee and me all the air is vibrant, and all ages pass
with the hiding and seeking of thee and me.
72: THE INNERMOST ONE
He it is, the innermost one, who awakens my being with his
deep hidden touches.
He it is who puts his enchantment upon these eyes and joyfully
plays on the chords of my heart in varied cadence of pleasure
and pain.
He it is who weaves the web of this maya in evanescent hues of
gold and silver, blue and green, and lets peep out through the
folds his feet, at whose touch I forget myself.
Days come and ages pass, and it is ever he who moves my
heart in many a name, in many a guise, in many a rapture of
joy and of sorrow.
73: SENSES
Deliverance is not for me in renunciation. I feel the embrace of
freedom in a thousand bonds of delight.
Thou ever pourest for me the fresh draught of thy wine of
various colours and fragrance, filling this earthen vessel to the
brim.
My world will light its hundred different lamps with thy flame
and place them before the altar of thy temple.
No, I will never shut the doors of my senses. The delights of
sight and hearing and touch will bear thy delight.
Yes, all my illusions will burn into illumination of joy, and all
my desires ripen into fruits of love.
74: EVENTIDE
The day is no more, the shadow is upon the earth. It is time
that I go to the stream to fill my pitcher.
The evening air is eager with the sad music of the water. Ah, it
calls me out into the dusk. In the lonely lane there is no passerby,
the wind is up, the ripples are rampant in the river.
I know not if I shall come back home. I know not whom I shall
chance to meet. There at the fording in the little boat the
unknown man plays upon his lute.
75: MEANINGS
Thy gifts to us mortals fulfil all our needs and yet run back to
thee undiminished.
The river has its everyday work to do and hastens through
fields and hamlets; yet its incessant stream winds towards the
washing of thy feet.
The flower sweetens the air with its perfume; yet its last
service is to offer itself to thee.
Thy worship does not impoverish the world.
From the words of the poet men take what meanings please
them; yet their last meaning points to thee.
76: FACE TO FACE
Day after day, O lord of my life, shall I stand before thee face
to face. With folded hands, O lord of all worlds, shall I stand
before thee face to face.
Under thy great sky in solitude and silence, with humble heart
shall I stand before thee face to face.
In this laborious world of thine, tumultuous with toil and with
struggle, among hurrying crowds shall I stand before thee face
to face.
And when my work shall be done in this world, O King of
kings, alone and speechless shall I stand before thee face to
face.
77: BROTHER OF MY BROTHERS
I know thee as my God and stand apart - I do not know thee as
my own and come closer. I know thee as my father and bow
before thy feet - I do not grasp thy hand as my friend's.
I stand not where thou comest down and ownest thyself as
mine, there to clasp thee to my heart and take thee as my
comrade.
Thou art the Brother amongst my brothers, but I heed them
not, I divide not my earnings with them, thus sharing my all
with thee.
In pleasure and in pain I stand not by the side of men, and thus
stand by thee. I shrink to give up my life, and thus do not
plunge into the great waters of life.
78: THE LOST STAR
When the creation was new and all the stars shone in their
first splendour, the gods held their assembly in the sky and
sang `Oh, the picture of perfection! the joy unalloyed!'
But one cried of a sudden - `It seems that somewhere there is a
break in the chain of light and one of the stars has been lost.'
The golden string of their harp snapped, their song stopped,
and they cried in dismay - `Yes, that lost star was the best, she
was the glory of all heavens!'
From that day the search is unceasing for her, and the cry goes
on from one to the other that in her the world has lost its one
joy!
Only in the deepest silence of night the stars smile and whisper
among themselves - `Vain is this seeking! unbroken perfection
is over all!'
79: LET ME NOT FORGET
If it is not my portion to meet thee in this life then let me ever
feel that I have missed thy sight - let me not forget for a
moment, let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams
and in my wakeful hours.
As my days pass in the crowded market of this world and my
hands grow full with the daily profits, let me ever feel that I
have gained nothing - let me not forget for a moment, let me
carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams and in my
wakeful hours.
When I sit by the roadside, tired and panting, when I spread
my bed low in the dust, let me ever feel that the long journey is
still before me - let me not forget a moment, let me carry the
pangs of this sorrow in my dreams and in my wakeful hours.
When my rooms have been decked out and the flutes sound
and the laughter there is loud, let me ever feel that I have not
invited thee to my house - let me not forget for a moment, let
me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams and in my
wakeful hours.
80: ROAMING CLOUD
I am like a remnant of a cloud of autumn uselessly roaming in
the sky, O my sun ever-glorious! Thy touch has not yet melted
my vapour, making me one with thy light, and thus I count
months and years separated from thee.
If this be thy wish and if this be thy play, then take this fleeting
emptiness of mine, paint it with colours, gild it with gold, float
it on the wanton wind and spread it in varied wonders.
And again when it shall be thy wish to end this play at night, I
shall melt and vanish away in the dark, or it may be in a smile
of the white morning, in a coolness of purity transparent.
81: LOST TIME
On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time. But it is
never lost, my lord. Thou hast taken every moment of my life
in thine own hands.
Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into
sprouts, buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into
fruitfulness.
I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed and imagined all work
had ceased. In the morning I woke up and found my garden
full with wonders of flowers.
82: ENDLESS TIME
Time is endless in thy hands, my lord. There is none to count
thy minutes.
Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers.
Thou knowest how to wait.
Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower.
We have no time to lose, and having no time we must scramble
for a chances. We are too poor to be late.
And thus it is that time goes by while I give it to every
querulous man who claims it, and thine altar is empty of all
offerings to the last.
At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate to be shut;
but I find that yet there is time.
83: TEARS OF PEARLS
Mother, I shall weave a chain of pearls for thy neck with my
tears of sorrow.
The stars have wrought their anklets of light to deck thy feet,
but mine will hang upon thy breast.
Wealth and fame come from thee and it is for thee to give or to
withhold them. But this my sorrow is absolutely mine own,
and when I bring it to thee as my offering thou rewardest me
with thy grace.
84: THE POET'S HEART
It is the pang of separation that spreads throughout the world
and gives birth to shapes innumerable in the infinite sky.
It is this sorrow of separation that gazes in silence all nights
from star to star and becomes lyric among rustling leaves in
rainy darkness of July.
It is this overspreading pain that deepens into loves and
desires, into sufferings and joy in human homes; and this it is
that ever melts and flows in songs through my poet's heart.
85: HELPLESS WARRIORS
When the warriors came out first from their master's hall,
where had they hid their power? Where were their armour and
their arms?
They looked poor and helpless, and the arrows were showered
upon them on the day they came out from their master's hall.
When the warriors marched back again to their master's hall
where did they hide their power?
They had dropped the sword and dropped the bow and the
arrow; peace was on their foreheads, and they had left the
fruits of their life behind them on the day they marched back
again to their master's hall.
86: DEATH
Death, thy servant, is at my door. He has crossed the unknown
sea and brought thy call to my home.
The night is dark and my heart is fearful - yet I will take up the
lamp, open my gates and bow to him my welcome. It is thy
messenger who stands at my door.
I will worship him placing at his feet the treasure of my heart.
He will go back with his errand done, leaving a dark shadow
on my morning; and in my desolate home only my forlorn self
will remain as my last offering to thee.
87: THE BRINK OF ETERNITY
In desperate hope I go and search for her in all the corners of
my room; I find her not.
My house is small and what once has gone from it can never be
regained.
But infinite is thy mansion, my lord, and seeking her I have to
come to thy door.
I stand under the golden canopy of thine evening sky and I lift
my eager eyes to thy face.
I have come to the brink of eternity from which nothing can
vanish - no hope, no happiness, no vision of a face seen
through tears.
Oh, dip my emptied life into that ocean, plunge it into the
deepest fullness. Let me for once feel that lost sweet touch in
the allness of the universe.
88: DEITY OF THE RUINED TEMPLE
Deity of the ruined temple! The broken strings of Vina sing no
more your praise. The bells in the evening proclaim not your
time of worship. The air is still and silent about you.
In your desolate dwelling comes the vagrant spring breeze. It
brings the tidings of flowers - the flowers that for your
worship are offered no more.
Your worshipper of old wanders ever longing for favour still
refused. In the eventide, when fires and shadows mingle with
the gloom of dust, he wearily comes back to the ruined temple
with hunger in his heart.
Many a festival day comes to you in silence, deity of the ruined
temple. Many a night of worship goes away with lamp unlit.
Many new images are built by masters of cunning art and
carried to the holy stream of oblivion when their time is come.
Only the deity of the ruined temple remains unworshipped in
deathless neglect.
89: MY WHISPERING HEART
No more noisy, loud words from me - such is my master's will.
Henceforth I deal in whispers. The speech of my heart will be
carried on in murmurings of a song.
Men hasten to the King's market. All the buyers and sellers are
there. But I have my untimely leave in the middle of the day, in
the thick of work.
Let then the flowers come out in my garden, though it is not
their time; and let the midday bees strike up their lazy hum.
Full many an hour have I spent in the strife of the good and the
evil, but now it is the pleasure of my playmate of the empty
days to draw my heart on to him; and I know not why is this
sudden call to what useless inconsequence!
90: OFFERINGS
On the day when death will knock at thy door what wilt thou
offer to him?
Oh, I will set before my guest the full vessel of my life - I will
never let him go with empty hands.
All the sweet vintage of all my autumn days and summer
nights, all the earnings and gleanings of my busy life will I
place before him at the close of my days when death will knock
at my door.
91: WAITING FOR DEATH
O thou the last fulfilment of life, Death, my death, come and
whisper to me!
Day after day I have kept watch for thee; for thee have I borne
the joys and pangs of life.
All that I am, that I have, that I hope and all my love have ever
flowed towards thee in depth of secrecy. One final glance from
thine eyes and my life will be ever thine own.
The flowers have been woven and the garland is ready for the
bridegroom. After the wedding the bride shall leave her home
and meet her lord alone in the solitude of night.
92: THE CURTAIN CLOSES
I know that the day will come when my sight of this earth shall
be lost, and life will take its leave in silence, drawing the last
curtain over my eyes.
Yet stars will watch at night, and morning rise as before, and
hours heave like sea waves casting up pleasures and pains.
When I think of this end of my moments, the barrier of the
moments breaks and I see by the light of death thy world with
its careless treasures. Rare is its lowliest seat, rare is its
meanest of lives.
Things that I longed for in vain and things that I got - let them
pass. Let me but truly possess the things that I ever spurned
and overlooked.
93: FAREWELL
I have got my leave. Bid me farewell, my brothers! I bow to
you all and take my departure.
Here I give back the keys of my door - and I give up all claims
to my house. I only ask for last kind words from you.
We were neighbours for long, but I received more than I could
give. Now the day has dawned and the lamp that lit my dark
corner is out. A summons has come and I am ready for my
journey.
94: THE DEPARTURE
At this time of my parting, wish me good luck, my friends! The
sky is flushed with the dawn and my path lies beautiful.
Ask not what I have with me to take there. I start on my
journey with empty hands and expectant heart.
I shall put on my wedding garland. Mine is not the red-brown
dress of the traveller, and though there are dangers on the way
I have no fear in mind.
The evening star will come out when my voyage is done and
the plaintive notes of the twilight melodies be struck up from
the King's gateway.
95: THE THRESHOLD OF LIFE
I was not aware of the moment when I first crossed the
threshold of this life.
What was the power that made me open out into this vast
mystery like a bud in the forest at midnight!
When in the morning I looked upon the light I felt in a moment
that I was no stranger in this world, that the inscrutable
without name and form had taken me in its arms in the form of
my own mother.
Even so, in death the same unknown will appear as ever
known to me. And because I love this life, I know I shall love
death as well.
The child cries out when from the right breast the mother takes
it away, in the very next moment to find in the left one its
consolation.
96: PARTING WORDS
When I go from hence let this be my parting word, that what I
have seen is unsurpassable.
I have tasted of the hidden honey of this lotus that expands on
the ocean of light, and thus am I blessed - let this be my parting
word.
In this playhouse of infinite forms I have had my play and here
have I caught sight of him that is formless.
My whole body and my limbs have thrilled with his touch who
is beyond touch; and if the end comes here, let it come - let this
be my parting word.
97: SILENT STARS
When my play was with thee I never questioned who thou
wert. I knew nor shyness nor fear, my life was boisterous.
In the early morning thou wouldst call me from my sleep like
my own comrade and lead me running from glade to glade.
On those days I never cared to know the meaning of songs thou
sangest to me. Only my voice took up the tunes, and my heart
danced in their cadence.
Now, when the playtime is over, what is this sudden sight that
is come upon me? The world with eyes bent upon thy feet
stands in awe with all its silent stars.
98: ESCAPE
I will deck thee with trophies, garlands of my defeat. It is never
in my power to escape unconquered.
I surely know my pride will go to the wall, my life will burst its
bonds in exceeding pain, and my empty heart will sob out in
music like a hollow reed, and the stone will melt in tears.
I surely know the hundred petals of a lotus will not remain
closed for ever and the secret recess of its honey will be bared.
From the blue sky an eye shall gaze upon me and summon me
in silence. Nothing will be left for me, nothing whatever, and
utter death shall I receive at thy feet.
99: STILL HEART
When I give up the helm I know that the time has come for thee
to take it. What there is to do will be instantly done. Vain is
this struggle.
Then take away your hands and silently put up with your
defeat, my heart, and think it your good fortune to sit perfectly
still where you are placed.
These my lamps are blown out at every little puff of wind, and
trying to light them I forget all else again and again.
But I shall be wise this time and wait in the dark, spreading
my mat on the floor; and whenever it is thy pleasure, my lord,
come silently and take thy seat here.
100: OCEAN OF FORMS
I dive down into the depth of the ocean of forms, hoping to gain
the perfect pearl of the formless.
No more sailing from harbour to harbour with this my
weather-beaten boat. The days are long passed when my sport
was to be tossed on waves.
And now I am eager to die into the deathless.
Into the audience hall by the fathomless abyss where swells up
the music of toneless strings I shall take this harp of my life.
I shall tune it to the notes of forever, and when it has sobbed
out its last utterance, lay down my silent harp at the feet of the
silent.
101: REMEMBERANCES
Ever in my life have I sought thee with my songs. It was they
who led me from door to door, and with them have I felt about
me, searching and touching my world.
It was my songs that taught me all the lessons I ever learnt;
they showed me secret paths, they brought before my sight
many a star on the horizon of my heart.
They guided me all the day long to the mysteries of the country
of pleasure and pain, and, at last, to what palace gate have the
brought me in the evening at the end of my journey?
102: QUESTIONS UNANSWERED
I boasted among men that I had known you. They see your
pictures in all works of mine. They come and ask me, `Who is
he?' I know not how to answer them. I say, `Indeed, I cannot
tell.' They blame me and they go away in scorn. And you sit
there smiling.
I put my tales of you into lasting songs. The secret gushes out
from my heart. They come and ask me, `Tell me all your
meanings.' I know not how to answer them. I say, `Ah, who
knows what they mean!' They smile and go away in utter
scorn. And you sit there smiling.
103: SALUTATION
In one salutation to thee, my God, let all my senses spread out
and touch this world at thy feet.
Like a rain-cloud of July hung low with its burden of unshed
showers let all my mind bend down at thy door in one
salutation to thee.
Let all my songs gather together their diverse strains into a
single current and flow to a sea of silence in one salutation to
thee.
Like a flock of homesick cranes flying night and day back to
their mountain nests let all my life take its voyage to its eternal
home in one salutation to thee.


KAPIL PATSARIYA

GWALIOR
kapilpatsariya@gmail.com

9770021177

member: INDIANS LEAGUE