Monday, January 22, 2007

Gitanjali

Ive never been into poetry... Frankly, never liked them much... But one of these days i happened to chance upon one of Rabindranath Tagore's greatest works.. Gitanjali..

A few of them even managed to bring out a lone tear, which i never realised was inside me..


Pluck this little flower and take it. Delay not! I fear lest it droop and drop into the dust.
It 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.


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 seaking for its completion.
I knew not then that it was so near, that it was mine, and that its perfect sweetness had blossomed in the depth of my own heart.


O Fool, to try to carry thyself upon thy own shoulders!
O Begger, to come to 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.
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.


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 to-day 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 play-room are the same that are echoing from star to star.


When thou commandest me to sing, it seems that my heart would break with pride; and i look to thy face, and tears comes 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.
I know not how thou singest, my master! I ever listen in silent amazement.
The light of they msic illumines the world. The life-breath of they 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!

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