Updated 01/01/10
Rabindranath Tagore Gitanjali
Song Offerings: A collection of prose translations made by the author from the original Bengali.
Μετάφραση στα Ελληνικά: Νίκος Μαρκογιαννάκης, Δήμητρα Μπούρα.
-- 1 --
You have made me endless, such is your pleasure. This frail vessel you empty again and again, and fill it ever with fresh life.
This little flute of a reed you have carried over hills and dales, and have breathed through it melodies eternally new.
At the immortal touch of your hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.
Your infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine. Ages pass, and still you pour, and still there is room to fill.
Εσύ που με έχεις φτιάξει χωρίς περιορισμόυς, αυτό είναι που σου δίνει ευχαρίστηση. Αυτό το εύθραστο αγγείο το αδειάζεις ξανά και ξανά, και πάντα το γεμίζεις με φρέσκια ζωή.
Αυτό το μικρό καλαμένιο αυλό τον έχεις μεταφέρει πάνω σε λόφους και κοιλάδες, και έχεις φυσήξει με αυτό μελωδίες αιώνια ζωντανές.
Με το αθάνατο άγγιγμα των χεριών σου η ταπεινή καρδιά μου χάνει τα όρια της μες στη χαρά και δίνει ζωή σε λόγια ανέκφραστα.
Τα απεριόριστα δώρα σου έρχονται σε μένα μόνο σε αυτά τα πολύ μικρά μου χέρια. Ο χρόνος περνάει, και ακόμα με αφθονία δίνεις, και ακόμη υπάρχει χώρος για να γεμίσεις.
-- 2 --
When you command me to sing it seems that my heart would break with pride; and I look to your 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 you take pleasure in my singing. I know that only as a singer I come before your presence.
I touch by the edge of the far-spreading wing of my song your feet which I could never aspire to reach.
Drunk with the joy of singing I forget myself and call you friend who are my lord.
Όταν με προστάζεις να τραγουδήσω μου φαίνεται ότι η καρδιά μου θα εκραγεί από υπερηφάνια' και κοιτάζω το προσωπό σου, και τα μάτια μου βουρκώνουν.
Όλα αυτά που προκαλούν θλίψη και δυσαρμονία στη ζωή μου λιώνουν και γίνονται μια γλυκειά μελωδία = και η λατρεία μου απλώνει φτερά όπως ένα χαρούμενο πουλί που ετοιμαζεται να πετάξει και να διασχίσει τη θάλασσα.
Ξέρω ότι το τραγούδι μου σε ευχαριστεί. Ξέρω ότι μόνο ως τραγουδιστής έρχομαι ενώπιον της παρουσίας σου.
Αγγίζω με την άκρη της πλατιά απλωμένης φτερούγας του τραγουδιού μου τα πόδια σου τα οποία ποτέ δεν μπορούσα να φιλοδοξήσω ότι θα έφτανα.
Ξεχασμένος απο τη χαρά του τραγουδίσματος ξεχνιέμαι και σε αποκαλώ φίλο εσένα που είσαι ο κύριός μου.
-- 3 --
I know not how you sing, my master! I ever listen in silent amazement.
The light of your music illumines the world. The life breath of your music runs from sky to sky. The holy stream of your music breaks through all stony obstacles and rushes on.
My heart longs to join in your song, but vainly struggles for a voice. I would speak, but speech breaks not into song, and I cry out baffled. Ah, you have made my heart captive in the endless meshes of your music, my master!
Δεν ξέρω με ποιο τρόπο τραγουδάς, σοφέ δάσκαλέ μου! Πάντα ακούω με σιωπηλό δέος.
Το φώς της μουσικής σου φωτίζει το κόσμο. Η ζωογόνος αναπνοή της μουσικής σου ταξιδεύει από ουρανό σε ουρανό. Η θεία ροή της μουσικής σου διαπερνά όλα τα πέτρινα εμπόδια και ορμά πέρα μπροστά.
Η καρδιά μου λαχταρά να ενωθεί με το τραγούδι σου, αλλά μάταια παλεύει για μία άρθρωση. Θα μιλούσα, αλλά η ομιλία δεν γίνεται τραγούδι, και ικετεύοντας φωνάζω συγχυσμένος. Αα, έχεις εχμαλωτίσει την καρδιά μου στα ατέλειωτα δίχτυα της μουσικής σου, μεγάλε μου δάσκαλε!
-- 4 --
Life of my life, I shall ever try to keep my body pure, knowing that your living touch is upon all my limbs.
I shall ever try to keep all untruths out from my thoughts, knowing that you are 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 you have your seat in the inmost shrine of my heart.
And it shall be my endeavour to reveal you in my actions, knowing it is your power gives me strength to act.
Ζωή της ζωής μου, πάντα θα προσπαθώ να διατηρώ το σώμα μου αγνό, ξέροντας ότι το ζωογόνο άγγιγμά σου βρίσκεται σε όλο μου το σώμα.
Πάντα θα προσπαθώ όλες τις ψευδείς αντιλήψεις να τις κρατώ μακριά από τις σκέψεις μου, ξέροντας ότι εσύ είσαι η αλήθεια που έχει ανάψει το φως της λογικής στο μυαλό μου.
Πάντα θα προσπαθώ να εξορκίζω τα κακόβουλα πνεύματα μακριά απο την καρδιά μου και να διατηρώ την αγάπη μου ανθισμένη, ξέροντας ότι έχεις το θρόνο σου στον ενδόμυχο ναό της καρδιάς μου.
Και θα προσπαθώ να αποκαλύπτω εσένα στις πράξεις μου, ξέροντας ότι είναι η δική σου δυναμή που μου δίνει δύναμη να πράττω.
-- 5 --
I ask for a moment's indulgence to sit by your side. The works that I have in hand I will finish afterwards.
Away from the sight of your 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 you, and to sing dedication of live in this silent and overflowing leisure.
Ζητώ την ικανοποίηση μιας στιγμής για να καθήσω στο πλευρό σου. Οι δουλειές που έχω να κάνω θα τις τελειώσω μετά.
Μακριά από την θέα του πρόσωπού σου η καρδιά μου δεν μπορεί να ξεκουραστεί ή να ανακουφιστεί, και η δουλειά μου γίνεται ένας μόχθος ατελείωτος σε μια απέραντη θάλασσα μόχθου.
Σήμερα το καλοκαίρι έχει έρθει στο παράθυρό μου με τους αναστεναγμούς και τις μουρμούρες του' και οι μέλισσες πλέκουν μαζί το τραγούδι τους στην αυλή του ανθισμένου άλσους.
Τώρα είναι η ώρα να καθήσω εντελώς, πρόσωπο με πρόσωπο με σένα, και να τραγουδήσω αφιερώσεις στη ζωή σε αυτή τη σιωπηλή και άφθονη σχόλη.
-- 6 --
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 your garland, but honour it with a touch of pain from your 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 your service and pluck it while there is time.
Κόψε αυτό το μικρό λουλούδι και πάρ'το, μην καθυστερείς! Φοβάμαι μήπως και γύρει και πέσει στο χώμα.
Μπορεί να μη βρω ένα μέρος στη γιρλάντα σου, αλλά τίμησε το με ένα ίχνος πόνου από το χέρι σου και κόψε το. Φοβάμαι μήπως και η μέρα τελειώσει πριν το καταλάβω, και η ώρα των προσφορών περάσει.
Αν και το χρώμα του δεν είναι βαθύ και η μυρωδιά του είναι αμυδρή, αυτό το λουλούδι είναι για σένα, κόψε το όσο είναι καιρός.
-- 7 --
My song has put off her adornments. She has no pride of dress and decoration. Ornaments would mar our union; they would come between you and me; their jingling would drown your whispers.
My poet's vanity dies in shame before your sight. O master poet, I have sat down at your feet. Only let me make my life simple and straight, like a flute of reed for you to fill with music.
Το τραγούδι μου έxει βγάλει τα στολίδια του. Δεν υπερηφανεύεται για το ντύσιμο και τη διακόσμησή του. Τα στολίδια θα χαλούσαν την ένωσή μας' θα έμπαιναν μεταξύ εμένα και εσένα, το κουδούνισμά τους θα έπνιγε τους ψιθυρούς σου.
Η ματαιοδοξία του ποιητή μέσα μου πεθαίνει μες στη ντροπή όταν βρίσκομαι μπροστά στη παρουσία σου. Ω μεγάλε δάσκαλε της ποίησης, έxω καθήσει στα πόδια σου. Μόνο κάνε με να φτιάξω την ζωή μου απλή και ευθύς, όπως ενός αυλού από καλάμι, για να τη γεμίζεις με μουσική.
-- 8 --
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, your bondage of finery, if it keep 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.
Το παιδί που κοσμείτε με βασιλικά ρούχα και που έχει γύρω από το λαιμό του χρυσά περιδέραια δεν ευχαριστιέται καθόλου το παιχνίδι του' η ένδυση του εμποδίζει το κάθε του βήμα.
Από φόβο μη και αυτά που φοράει ξεφτύσουν ή λεκιαστούν κρατάει τον εαυτό του μακρία απο το κόσμο, και φοβάται ακόμη και να κουνηθεί.
Μητέρα, δεν υπάρχει κανένα όφελος στα δεσμά της διακόσμησής σου, αν κρατούν κάποιον αποκομένο από το υγιές χώμα της γής, αν κλέβουν από αυτόν το δικαίωμα της εισόδους στη μεγάλη γιορτή της κοινής ανθρώπινης ζωής.
-- 9 --
O Fool, try to carry yourself upon your own shoulders! O beggar, to come beg at your own door!
Leave all your burdens on his hands who can bear all, and never look behind in regret.
Your desire at once puts out the light from the lamp it touches with its breath. It is unholy---take not your gifts through its unclean hands. Accept only what is offered by sacred love.
Ω ανόητε, που προσπαθείς να κουβαλήσεις τον εαυτό σου πάνω στους ίδιους σου τους ώμους! Ω ζητιάνε που έρχεσαι και παρακαλάς στην δικιά σου πόρτα!
Άφησε όλα τα βάρη στα χέρια του που μπορεί όλα να τα βαστήξει, και ποτέ δεν κοιτάει πίσω με μεταμέλεια.
Η επιθυμία σου σβήνει αμέσως το φώς από τη λάμπα που αγγίζει με την αναπνοή της. Είναι ανίερο = μην πάρεις τα δώρα σου μέσω των λερωμένων χεριών της. Δέξου μόνο ότι προσφέρεται από άγια αγάπη.
-- 10 --
Here is your footstool and there rest your feet where live the poor, and lowliest, and lost.
When I try to bow to you, my obeisance cannot reach down to the depth where your feet rest among the poor, and lowliest, and lost.
Pride can never approach to where you walk in the clothes of the humble among the poorest, and lowliest, and lost.
My heart can never find its way to where you keep company with the companionless among the poorest, the lowliest, and the lost.
Εδώ είναι το σκαμνί σου και εκεί ξεκούρασε τα πόδια σου εκεί όπου ζουν οι πάμφτωχοι, και οι πιο αδύναμοι, και οι απελπισμένοι.
Όταν προσπαθώ να σε προσκυνήσω, η υπόκλισή μου δεν μπορεί φτάσει τόσο κάτω στα βάθη όπου τα πόδια σου αναπαύονται ανάμεσα στους πάμφτωχους, τους πιο αδύναμους, και τους απελπισμένους.
Η υπερηφάνια ποτέ δεν μπορεί να πλησιάσει εκεί που περπατάς μέσα στα ρούχα του ταπεινού μεταξύ των πάμφτωχων, των πιο αδύναμων, και των απελπισμένων.
Η καρδιά μου ποτέ δεν μπορεί να βρει το δρόμο της εκεί που κρατάς συντροφιά στους εγκαταλελειμένους, τους πάμφτωχους, τους πιο αδύναμους, και τους απελπισμένους.
-- 11 --
Leave this chanting and singing and telling of beads! Whom do you worship in this lonely dark corner of a temple with doors all shut? Open your eyes and see your God is not before you!
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 your 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 your meditations and leave aside your flowers and incense! What harm is there if your clothes become tattered and stained? Meet him and stand by him in toil and in sweat of your brow.
Άφησε τις ψαλμωδίες και το τραγούδισμα και να ερμηνεύεις τα χαρτιά. Ποιον προσκηνάς σε αυτή τη μοναχική σκοτεινή γωνία ενός ναού με τις πόρτες όλες κλειστές; Άνοιξε τα μάτια σου και δες ότι ο Θεός σου δεν είναι μπροστά σου!
Είναι εκεί όπου ο γεωργός οργώνει τη σκλήρη γη και εκεί όπου αυτός που ανοίγει μονοπάτια σπάει πέτρες. Είναι με αυτούς κάτω από τον ήλιο και τη βροχή, και τα ρούχα είναι καλυμένα από τη σκόνη. Φόρεσε την ιερή σου κάπα και όπως και αυτός έλα κάτω στο σκονισμένο χώμα!
Λύτρωση; Που βρίσκεται η λύτρωση; Ο ίδιος ο σοφός δάσκαλός μας με χαρά έχει πάρει πάνω του τα δεσμά της δημιουργίας' είναι δέσμιος με όλους εμάς για πάντα.
Βγες από τις προσευχές και τους διαλογισμούς σου και άφησε στην άκρη τα λουλούδια και τα μυρωδικά σου! Που βρίσκεται η μεγάλη απώλεια αν τα ρούχα σου σκιστούν και λερωθούν; Συναντησέ τον και στάσου δίπλα του στο μόχθο και με τον ιδρώτα στο μετωπό σου.
-- 12 --
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 yourself, 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 you are!'
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!'
Ο καιρός που το ταξίδι μου παίρνει είναι μακρύς και ο δρόμος του είναι μακρύς.
Κατέβηκα από το άρμα μου με το πρώτο φέγγισμα του φωτός, και συνέχισα το ταξίδι μου μέσα στις αγριότητες των κόσμων αφήνοντας τα ίχνη μου πάνω σε πολλά αστέρια και πλανήτες.
Είναι ο πιο μακρινός δρόμος που οδηγεί κοντύτερα σε σένα, και αυτή η εκπαίδευση είναι η πιο πολυσύνθετη η οποία οδηγεί στην τέλεια απλότητα μιας μελωδίας.
Ο ταξιδιώτης πρέπει να χτυπήσει σε κάθε ξένη πόρτα για να έρθει στην δικιά του, και κάποιος πρέπει να περιπλανηθεί σε όλους τους έξω κόσμους για να φτάσει τον εσώτατο ναό στο τέλος.
Τα μάτια μου περιπλανήθηκαν στα πέρατα του κόσμου προτού τα κλείσω και είπα 'Ώστε εδώ είσαι!'
Η ερώτηση και η κραυγή 'Ω, που;' λιώνουν σε δάκρυα μυριάδων ρεμάτων και κατακλύζουν το κόσμο με τη πλημμύρα της διαβεβαίωσης 'Είμαι!'
-- 13 --
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.
Το τραγούδι που ήρθα να τραγουδήσω παραμένει ατραγούδιστο μέχρι και σήμερα.
Ξόδεψα τις μέρες μου κουρδίζοντας, τεντώνοντας και ξετεντώνοντας τις χορδές του μουσικού μου όργανου.
Η χρόνος δεν έχει επαληθεύσει, οι λέξεις δεν έχουν τοποθετηθεί σωστά' υπάρχει μόνο η αγωνία της λαχτάρας μέσα στην καρδιά μου.
Το μπουμπούκι δεν έχει ανοίξει' μόνο ο άνεμος αναστενάζει δίπλα του.
Δεν έχω δει το πρόσωπό του, ούτε έχω ακούσει την φωνή του' μόνο έχω ακούσει τα απαλά του βήματα από το δρόμο μπροστά στο σπίτι μου.
Όλη η μέρα έχει περάσει φροντίζοντας πως να απλωθεί το κάθισμά του στο πάτωμα' αλλά η λάμπα δεν έχει αναφτεί και δεν μπορώ να του ζητήσω να περάσει μέσα στο σπίτι μου.
Ζω με την ελπίδα να συναντηθώ μαζί του' αλλά αυτή η συνάντηση δεν έχει γίνει ακόμη.
-- 14 --
My desires are many and my cry is pitiful, but ever did you save me by hard refusals; and this strong mercy has been wrought into my life through and through.
Day by day you are making me worthy of the simple, great gifts that you gave 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 you hide yourself from before me.
Day by day you are making me worthy of your full acceptance by refusing me ever and anon, saving me from perils of weak, uncertain desire.
Οι επιθυμίες μου είναι πολλές και το κλάμα μου κακόμοιρο, αλλά πάντα με έσωνες με σκληρές αρνήσεις' και αυτό το ακλόνητο έλεος έχει διαπλαστεί μες στην ζωή μου πέρα για πέρα.
Μέρα με τη μέρα με κάνεις άξιο των απλών, εξαίρετων δώρων που μου έδωσες χωρίς να έχουν ζητηθεί = αυτό τον ήλιο και το φως, αυτό το σώμα και τη ζωή και το νου = σώνοντάς με από κινδύνους υπέρμετρης επιθυμίας.
Υπάρχουν φορές που γυροφέρνω νωχελικά και φορές που ξυπνάω και με ανυπομονησία ψάχνω για το σκοπό μου' αλλά χωρίς έλεος κρύβεις τον εαυτό σου από την παρουσία μου.
Μέρα με τη μέρα με κάνεις άξιο της αμέριστης αποδοχής σου με το να με αρνείσαι άμεσα και πάντα, σώνοντάς με από κινδύνους αδύναμης, άστατης επιθυμίας.
-- 15 --
I am here to sing you songs. In this hall of yours I have a corner seat.
In your world I have no work to do; my useless life can only break out in tunes without a purpose.
When the hour strikes for your silent worship at the dark temple of midnight, command me, my master, to stand before you to sing.
When in the morning air the golden harp is tuned, honour me, commanding my presence.
Είμαι εδώ να τραγουδήσω τα τραγούδια σου. Σε αυτή την αίθουσά σου έχω μια θέση στη γωνία.
Στον κόσμο σου δεν έχω δουλειά να κάνω' η άχρηστη ζωή μου μπορεί μόνο να εκδηλωθεί σε μελωδίες χωρίς σκοπό.
Όταν η ώρα χτυπήσει για το σιωπηλό σου προσκύνημα στο σκοτεινό ναό του μεσονυχτίου, πρόσταξέ με, αφέντη μου, να σταθώ μπροστά σου για να τραγουδήσω.
Όταν με την πρωϊνή αύρα η χρυσή άρπα έχει κουρδιστεί, τίμησέ με, προστάζοντας την παρουσία μου.
-- 16 --
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 your face and offer you my silent salutation?
Έχω λάβει την πρόσκλησή μου για το γλέντι αυτού του κόσμου, και με αυτό το τρόπο η ζωή μου ευλογήθηκε. Τα μάτια μου έχουν δει και τα αυτιά μου έχουν ακούσει.
Η συμμετοχή μου σε αυτή τη γιορτή ήταν να παίξω το μουσικό μου όργανο, και έχω κάνει ότι μπορούσα.
Και τώρα, ρωτάω, έχει έρθει ο καιρός τελικά όπου μπορώ να μπω μέσα και να δω το πρόσωπό σου και να σου προσφέρω το σιωπηλό χαιρετισμό μου;
-- 17 --
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.
Περιμένω μόνο για την αγάπη ώστε επιτέλους να αφεθώ στα χέρια σου. Για αυτό το λόγο είναι τόσο αργά και για αυτό εγώ φταίω τέτοιων παραλείψεων.
Έρχονται με τους νόμους τους και τους κώδικές τους για να με δεσμεύσουν' αλλά πάντα τους ξεφεύγω, γιατί περιμένω μόνο για την αγάπη ώστε επιτέλους να αφεθώ στα χέρια σου.
Οι άνθρωποι με κατηγορούν και με λένε απερίσκεπτο' δεν αμφιβάλλω ότι δικαίως με κατηγορούν.
Η ώρα των αγορών πέρασε και οι δουλειές έχουν τελειώσει για τους πολυάσχολους. Εκείνοι που ήρθαν να με προσκαλέσουν μάταια ήρθαν και γύρισαν πίσω θυμωμένοι. Περιμένω μόνο για την αγάπη ώστε επιτέλους να αφεθώ στα χέρια σου.
-- 18 --
Clouds heap upon clouds and it darkens. Ah, love, why do you 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 you that I hope.
If you show me not your face, if you leave 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 --
If you speak not I will fill my heart with your 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 your voice pour down in golden streams breaking through the sky.
Then your words will take wing in songs from every one of my birds' nests, and your melodies will break forth in flowers in all my forest groves.
-- 20 --
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.
Την ημέρα που ο λοτός άνθησε, ω αλοίμονο, το μυαλό μου περιπλανιόταν, και για αυτό δεν το είδα. Το καλάθι μου ήταν άδειο και το λουλούδι λησμονήθηκε.
Μόνο που πότε-πότε μια λύπη με κυρίευε, και αναπηδούσα από το όνειρό μου και ένοιωθα αμυδρά μια γλυκειά, παράξενη ευωδία μες στον αγέρα του νοτιά.
Εκείνη η ανεπαίσθητη γλύκα έκανε την καρδιά μου να πονά από λαχτάρα και μου φάνηκε ότι ήταν η ανυπόμονη πνοή του καλοκαιριού που αναζητούσε την εκπλήρωσή του.
Τότε δεν το ήξερα ότι ήταν τόσο κοντά, ότι ήταν δικό μου, και ότι αυτή η τέλεια γλυκειά ευωδία είχε ανθήσει στα βάθη της δικής μου καρδιάς.
-- 21 --
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 --
In the deep shadows of the rainy July, with secret steps, you walk, 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. You are 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 --
Art you abroad on this stormy night on your 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 your path!
By what dim shore of the ink-black river, by what far edge of the frowning for, through what mazy depth of gloom are you threading your course to come to me, my friend?
-- 24 --
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 you have 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 your kindly night.
-- 25 --
In the night of weariness let me give myself up to sleep without struggle, resting my trust upon you.
Let me not force my flagging spirit into a poor preparation for your worship.
It is you who draw the veil of night upon the tired eyes of the day to renew its sight in a fresher gladness of awakening.
-- 26 --
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 --
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 your fate, my heart? Ah, death were better by far for you!
Misery knocks at your door, and her message is that your lord is wakeful, and he calls you 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 your life.
-- 28 --
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 you, and that you are 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 --
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.
Αυτός που περικλύω με το όνομά μου θρηνεί μέσα σ'αυτό το μπουντρούμι. Είμαι όλη την ώρα απασχολημένος με το να χτίζω αυτό το τοίχο ολόγυρά μου' και όπως αυτός ο τοίχος ανοιψώνεται προς τον ουρανό μέρα με τη μέρα χάνω τη θέα του αληθινού μου εαυτού μες στην σκοτεινή σκιά του.
Υπερηφανεύομαι για αυτό το μεγαλοπρεπή και τεράστιο τοίχο, και το σοβαντίζω με χώμα και άμμο μη και η παραμικρή τρύπα παραμείνει σε αυτό το όνομα' και με όλη αυτή τη φροντίδα που παρέχω χάνω τη θέα του πραγματικού μου εαυτού.
-- 30 --
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 your door in his company.
Βγήκα έξω μοναχός μου για να πάω στο ραντεβού μου. Αλλά ποιος είναι αυτός που με ακολουθεί μες στο αθόρυβο σκοτάδι;
Κινούμαι κατα μέρος για να αποφύγω την παρουσία του αλλά δεν του ξεφεύγω.
Κάνει τη σκόνη να σηκώνεται με το (κορδωμένο και) θρασύ περπάτημά του' προσθέτει τη δυνατή φωνή του σε κάθε λέξη που εκστομίζω.
Είναι ο μικροπρεπής εαυτός μου, κύριέ μου, δεν νοιώθει καμιά ντροπή' αλλά εγώ ντρέπομαι να έρθω στην πόρτα σου με αυτόν συντροφιά.
-- 31 --
'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 bed 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 --
By all means they try to hold me secure who love me in this world. But it is otherwise with your love which is greater than theirs, and you keep me free.
Lest I forget them they never venture to leave me alone. But day passes by after day and you are not seen.
If I call not you in my prayers, if I keep not you in my heart, your love for me still waits for my love.
-- 33 --
When it was day they came into my house and said, 'We shall only take the small 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 --
Let only that little be left of me whereby I may name you my all.
Let only that little be left of my will whereby I may feel you on every side, and come to you in everything, and offer to you my love every moment.
Let only that little be left of me whereby I may never hide you.
Let only that little of my fetters be left whereby I am bound with your will, and your purpose is carried out in my life---and that is the fetter of your love.
-- 35 --
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 you into ever-widening thought and action---
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
-- 36 --
This is my prayer to you, 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 your will with love.
-- 37 --
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 your 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 --
That I want you, only you---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 you, only you'.
As the storm still seeks its end in peace when it strikes against peace with all its might, even thus my rebellion strikes against your love and still its cry is---'I want you, only you'.
-- 39 --
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 your 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 you holy one, you wakeful, come with your light and your thunder.
-- 40 --
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 your angry storm, dark with death, if it is your 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 --
Where do you stand behind them all, my lover, hiding yourself in the shadows? They push you and pass you by on the dusty road, taking you for naught. I wait here weary hours spreading my offerings for you, 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 you I wait, and that you have 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 your coming---all the lights ablaze, golden pennons flying over your car, and they at the roadside standing agape, when they see you come down from your seat to raise me from the dust, and set at your side this ragged beggar girl a-tremble with shame and pride, like a creeper in a summer breeze.
But time glides on and still no sound of the wheels of your chariot. Many a procession passes by with noise and shouts and glamour of glory. Is it only you who would 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 --
Early in the day it was whispered that we should sail in a boat, only you 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 your 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 --
The day was when I did not keep myself in readiness for you; and entering my heart unbidden even as one of the common crowd, unknown to me, my king, you did press the signet of eternity upon many a fleeting moment of my life.
And today when by chance I light upon them and see your signature, I find they have lain scattered in the dust mixed with the memory of joys and sorrows of my trivial days forgotten.
You did 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 --
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 --
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 for 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 --
I know not from what distant time you are ever coming nearer to meet me. Your sun and stars can never keep you hidden from me for aye.
In many a morning and eve your footsteps have been heard and your 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 your sweet presence.
-- 47 --
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 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 you standing by me, flooding my sleep with your smile. How I had feared that the path was long and wearisome, and the struggle to reach you was hard!
-- 49 --
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 --
I had gone a-begging from door to door in the village path, when your 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. Your glance fell on me and you came down with a smile. I felt that the luck of my life had come at last. Then of a sudden you did hold out your right hand and say 'What have you to give to me?'
Ah, what a kingly jest was it to open your 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 you.
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 you my all.
-- 51 --
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 your 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 your 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 --
I thought I should ask of you---but I dared not---the rose wreath you had on your neck. Thus I waited for the morning, when you did 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 your love? It is no flower, no spices, no vase of perfumed water. It is your 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 your bed. The morning bird twitters and asks, 'Woman, what have you got?' No, it is no flower, nor spices, nor vase of perfumed water---it is your dreadful sword.
I sit and muse in wonder, what gift is this of yours. 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 yours.
From now there shall be no fear left for me in this world, and you shalt be victorious in all my strife. You have left death for my companion and I shall crown him with my life. Your 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. You have given me your sword for adornment. No more doll's decorations for me!
-- 53 --
Beautiful is your wristlet, decked with stars and cunningly wrought in myriad-coloured jewels. But more beautiful to me your 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 your wristlet, decked with starry gems; but your sword, O lord of thunder, is wrought with uttermost beauty, terrible to behold or think of.
-- 54 --
I asked nothing from you; I uttered not my name to your ear. When you took your 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 your steps as you came. Your eyes were sad when they fell on me; your voice was tired as you spoke low---'Ah, I am a thirsty traveller.' I started up from my day-dreams and poured water from my jar on your 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 you did ask. Indeed, what had I done for you to keep me in remembrance? But the memory that I could give water to you to allay your 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 --
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 --
Thus it is that your joy in me is so full. Thus it is that you have come down to me. O you lord of all heavens, where would be your love if I were not?
You have taken me as your partner of all this wealth. In my heart is the endless play of your delight. In my life your will is ever taking shape.
And for this, you who are the King of kings have decked yourself in beauty to captivate my heart. And for this your love loses itself in the love of your lover, and there you are seen in the perfect union of two.
-- 57 --
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 --
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 --
Yes, I know, this is nothing but your 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 your message to my heart. Your face is bent from above, your eyes look down on my eyes, and my heart has touched your feet.
-- 60 --
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 --
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 --
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 now 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 that is which the summer breeze brings to my body---when I kiss you to make you smile.
-- 63 --
You have made me known to friends whom I knew not. You have given me seats in homes not my own. You have 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 you abide.
Through birth and death, in this world or in others, wherever you lead me it is you, the same, the one companion of my endless life who ever links my heart with bonds of joy to the unfamiliar.
When one knows you, 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 --
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 --
What divine drink would you have, my God, from this overflowing cup of my life?
My poet, is it your delight to see your creation through my eyes and to stand at the portals of my ears silently to listen to your own eternal harmony?
Your world is weaving words in my mind and your joy is adding music to them. You give yourself to me in love and then feel your own entire sweetness in me.
-- 66 --
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 you, 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 your recognition.
-- 67 --
You are the sky and you are the nest as well.
O you beautiful, there in the nest is your 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 --
Your sunbeam comes upon this earth of mine with arms outstretched and stands at my door the livelong day to carry back to your feet clouds made of my tears and sighs and songs.
With fond delight you wrap about your 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 you love it, O you spotless and serene. And that is why it may cover your awful white light with its pathetic shadows.
-- 69 --
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 --
Is it beyond you 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 --
That I should make much of myself and turn it on all sides, thus casting coloured shadows on your radiance---such is your maya.
You set a barrier in your own being and then call your severed self in myriad notes. This your self-separation has taken body in me.
The poignant song is echoed through all the sky in many-coloured tears and smiles, alarms and hopes; waves rise up and sink again, dreams break and form. In me is your own defeat of self.
This screen that you have raised is painted with innumerable figures with the brush of the night and the day. Behind it your seat is woven in wondrous mysteries of curves, casting away all barren lines of straightness.
The great pageant of you and me has overspread the sky. With the tune of you and me all the air is vibrant, and all ages pass with the hiding and seeking of you and me.
-- 72 --
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 --
Deliverance is not for me in renunciation. I feel the embrace of freedom in a thousand bonds of delight.
You ever pour for me the fresh draught of your wine of various colours and fragrance, filling this earthen vessel to the brim.
My world will light its hundred different lamps with your flame and place them before the altar of your temple.
No, I will never shut the doors of my senses. The delights of sight and hearing and touch will bear your delight.
Yes, all my illusions will burn into illumination of joy, and all my desires ripen into fruits of love.
-- 74 --
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 passer-by, 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 --
Your gifts to us mortals fulfil all our needs and yet run back to you undiminished.
The river has its everyday work to do and hastens through fields and hamlets; yet its incessant stream winds towards the washing of your feet.
The flower sweetens the air with its perfume; yet its last service is to offer itself to you.
Your worship does not impoverish the world.
From the words of the poet men take what meanings please them; yet their last meaning points to you.
-- 76 --
Day after day, O lord of my life, shall I stand before you face to face. With folded hands, O lord of all worlds, shall I stand before you face to face.
Under your great sky in solitude and silence, with humble heart shall I stand before you face to face.
In this laborious world of thine, tumultuous with toil and with struggle, among hurrying crowds shall I stand before you face to face.
And when my work shall be done in this world, O King of kings, alone and speechless shall I stand before you face to face.
-- 77 --
I know you as my God and stand apart---I do not know you as my own and come closer. I know you as my father and bow before your feet---I do not grasp your hand as my friend's.
I stand not where you come down and own yourself as mine, there to clasp you to my heart and take you as my comrade.
You are the Brother among my brothers, but I heed them not, I divide not my earnings with them, thus sharing my all with you.
In pleasure and in pain I stand not by the side of men, and thus stand by you. I shrink to give up my life, and thus do not plunge into the great waters of life.
-- 78 --
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 --
If it is not my portion to meet you in this life then let me ever feel that I have missed your 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 you 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 --
I am like a remnant of a cloud of autumn uselessly roaming in the sky, O my sun ever-glorious! Your touch has not yet melted my vapour, making me one with your light, and thus I count months and years separated from you.
If this be your wish and if this be your 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 your 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 --
On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time. But it is never lost, my lord. You have taken every moment of my life in your own hands.
Hidden in the heart of things you are 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 --
Time is endless in your hands, my lord. There is none to count your minutes.
Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers. You know how to wait.
Your 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 your altar is empty of all offerings to the last.
At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest your gate to be shut; but I find that yet there is time.
-- 83 --
Mother, I shall weave a chain of pearls for your neck with my tears of sorrow.
The stars have wrought their anklets of light to deck your feet, but mine will hang upon your breast.
Wealth and fame come from you and it is for you to give or to withhold them. But this my sorrow is absolutely mine own, and when I bring it to you as my offering you reward me with your grace.
-- 84 --
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 --
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, your servant, is at my door. He has crossed the unknown sea and brought your 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 your 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 you.
-- 87 --
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 your mansion, my lord, and seeking her I have to come to your door.
I stand under the golden canopy of your evening sky and I lift my eager eyes to your 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 deep fullness. Let me for once feel that lost sweet touch in the allness of the universe.
-- 88 --
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 --
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 --
On the day when death will knock at your door what wilt you 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 --
O you the last fulfilment of life, Death, my death, come and whisper to me!
Day after day I have kept watch for you; for you 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 you in depth of secrecy. One final glance from your eyes and my life will be ever your 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 --
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 your 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 --
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 --
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 --
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 --
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 --
When my play was with you I never questioned who you were. 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, when 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.
-- 98 --
I will deck you 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 your feet.
-- 99 --
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, 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 your pleasure, my lord, come silently and take your seat here.
-- 100 --
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 --
Ever in my life have I sought you 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 --
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 --
In one salutation to you, my God, let all my senses spread out and touch this world at your feet.
Like a rain-cloud of July hung low with its burden of unshed showers let all my mind bend down at your door in one salutation to you.
Let all my songs gather together their diverse strains into a single current and flow to a sea of silence in one salutation to you.
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 you.
