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| Rabindranath Tagore's Poems
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To me, these are expressions of spiritual love for the unknown.......
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 life in this silent and overflowing leisure.
I traveled miles, for many a year, I spent a lot in lands afar, I’ve gone to see the mountains, the oceans I’ve been to view. But I haven’t seen with these eyes Just two steps from my home lies On a sheaf of paddy grain, a glistening drop of dew.
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.
How many unknown things You made known to me. In how many places You found room for me. What was distant, Friend, You brought near. What was strange You made familiar. In life, in death, in your vast domain, whenever, wherever You take me. You, my eternal familiar One, will tell me everything....
When my play was with you I never questioned who you are. I knew nor shyness nor fear, my life was boisterous. In the early morning you would 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 you sang to me. Only my voice took up the tunes and my heart danced in their cadence. Now the playtime is over, what is this sudden sight that is come upon me? The world with eyes bent upon your feet stands in awe with all its silent stars.
When I give up the helm I know that the time has come for you 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, 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 your pleasure, my lord, come silently and take your seat here.
I know that those acts of worship that are imperfect or incomplete are not lost or wasted. Unopened flowers fall to the ground. Rivers lose their way in the desert. I know these too are not wasted or lost. I know that all that in my life is left undone, unfinished, I know that too is not worthless. The strings of your lute play those acts of mine which lie ahead and those things of mine which are unsoiled. I know these too are not wasted or lost.
When my footprints will fade away from this road, you may not remember me any more. You may not wish for me then but who says I will not be there in your mornings. I will participate in all you plays everyday, every moment.
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Posted by kanjasaha on 2008-06-15 16:41:33 | Rating: | Views: 129
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