GITANJALI
From BluWiki
{SONG OFFERINGS}
by Rabindranath Tagore
Rabindranath Tagore (1861--1941), was an Indian who received Nobel prize (1913) for Literature. This collection of songs was first published in 1913 as a collection of prose translations made by the author from the original Bangla (a language of India) Poems.
This is one of my most favorite collections. I am presenting here some of the songs from the original book.
1
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 wings 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.
2
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!
3
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.
4
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.
5
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.
6
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.
7
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.
8
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!'
9
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 said;
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.
10
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.
11
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.
12
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?
13
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.
14
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 wings
in songs from every one
of my birds' nests,
and thy melodies
will break forth in flowers
in all my forest groves.
15
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 it 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.
16
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?
17
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 dust laden,
whose strength is exhausted,
remove shame and poverty,
and renew his life
like a flower under the cover
of thy kindly night.
18
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.
19
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.
20
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.
21
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.
22
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.
23
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.
24
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.
25
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'.
26
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.
27
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.
28
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.
29
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.
30
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!
31
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.
32
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.
33
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.
34
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.
35
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.
36
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.
37
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.
38
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.
39
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.
40
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.
41
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.
42
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.
43
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.
