He it is who puts his enchantment upon these eyes and joyfully plays on the chords of my heart in varied ca¬ dence 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 68 GITANJALI name, in many a guise, in many a rapture of joy and of sorrow.
73 Deliverance is not for me in renuncia¬ tion. 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.
GITANJALI 69 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 Thy gifts to us mortals fulfil all our needs and yet run back to thee un¬ diminished.
The river has its everyday work to do and hastens through fields and 70 GITANJALI hamlets; yet its incessant stream winds towards the washing of thy feet.
The flower sweetens the air with its perfume; yet its last service is to offer itself to thee.
Thy worship does not impoverish the world.
From the words of the poet men take what meanings please them; yet their last meaning points to thee.
76 Day after dAY, O lord of my life, shall I stand before thee face to face? With folded hands, O lord of all worlds, shall I stand before thee face to face?
Under thy great sky in solitude and silence, with humble heart shall I stand before thee face to face?
In this laborious world of thine, tumultuous with toil and with struggle.
GITANJALI 71 among hurrying crowds shall I stand before thee face to face?
And when my work shall be done in this world, O King of kings, alone and speechless shall I stand before thee face to face?
77 I KNOW thee as my God and stand apart — I do not know thee as my own and come closer. I know thee as my father and bow before thy feet — I do not grasp thy hand as my friend’s.
I stand not where thou comest down and ownest thyself as mine, there to clasp thee to my heart and take thee as my comrade.
Thou art the Brother amongst my brothers, but I heed them not, I divide not my earnings with them, thus shar¬ ing my all with thee.
In pleasure and in pain I stand not 72 GITANJALI by the side of men, and thus stand by thee. I shrink to give up my life, and thus do not plunge into the great waters of life.
78 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 perfec¬ tion! 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 un¬ ceasing for her, and the cry goes on GITANJALI 73 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 thee in this my 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 74 GITANJALI 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 for 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 laugh¬ ter there is loud, let me ever feel that I have not invited thee to my house — let me not forget for a moment, let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams and in my wakeful hours.
80 I AM like a remnant of a cloud of autumn uselessly roaming in the sky, O my sun ever-glorious! Thy touch has not yet melted my vapour, making me one with thy light, and thus I count months and years separated from thee. If this be thy wish and if this be thy GITANJALI 75 play, then take this fleeting emptiness of mine, paint it with colours, gild it with gold, float it on the wanton wind and spread it in varied wonders.
And again when it shall be thy wish to end this play at night, I shall melt and vanish away in the dark, or it may be in a smile of the white morning, in a coolness of purity transparent.
81 On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time. But it is never lost, my lord. Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands.
Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts, buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness.
I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed and imagined all work had ceased.
76 GITANJALI In the morning I woke up and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.
82 Time is endless in thy hands, my lord. There is none to count thy minutes.
Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers. Thou knowest how to wait.
Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower.
We have no time to lose, and having no time we must scramble for our chances. We are too poor to be late.
And thus it is that time goes by while I give it to every querulous man who claims it, and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last.
At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate be shut; but I find that yet there is time.
GITANJALI 77 83 Mother, I shall weave a chain of pearls for thy neck with my tears of sorrow.
The stars have wrought their anklets of light to deck thy feet, but mine will hang upon thy breast.
Wealth and fame come from thee and it is for thee to give or to withhold them. But this my sorrow is absolutely mine own, and when I bring it to thee as my offering thou rewardest me with thy grace.
84 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 night from star to star and becomes lyric among rustling leaves in rainy darkness of July.
78 GITANJALI It is this overspreading pain that deepens into loves and desires, into sufferings and joys 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 ar¬ mour 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 GITANJALI 79 on the day they marched back again to their master’s hall.
86 Death, thy servant, is at my door. He has crossed the unknown sea and brought thy call to my home.
The night is dark and my heart is fearful — yet I will take up the lamp, open my gates and bow to him my welcome. It is thy messenger who stands at my door.
I will worship him with folded hands, and with tears. I will worship him placing at his feet the treasure of my heart.
He will go back with his errand done, leaving a dark shadow on my morning; and in my desolate home only my forlorn self will remain as my last offering to thee.
80 GITANJALI 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 thy mansion, my lord, and seeking her I have 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 full¬ ness. Let me for once feel that lost sweet touch in the allness of the uni¬ verse.
GITANJALI 81 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 min¬ gle 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 82 GITANJALI 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 GITANJALI 83 of the empty days to draw my heart on to him; and I know not why is this sudden call to what useless incon¬ sequence!
90 On the day when death will knock at thy door what wilt thou offer to him?
Oh, I will set before my guest the full vessel of my life — I will never let him go with empty hands.
All the sweet vintage of all my autumn days and summer nights, all the earnings and gleanings of my busy life will I place before him at the close of my days when death will knock at my door.
91 O THOU the last fulfilment of life, Death, my death, come and whisper to me! Day after day have I kept watch for 84 GITANJALI 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 to¬ wards thee in depth of secrecy. One final glance from thine eyes and my life will be ever thine own.
The flowers have been woven and the garland is ready for the bridegroom. After the wedding the bride shall leave her home and meet her lord alone in the solitude of night.
92 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.
GITANJALI 85 When I think of this end of my moments, the barrier of the moments breaks and I see by the light of death thy world with its careless treasures. Rare is its lowliest seat, rare is its meanest of lives.
Things that I longed for in vain and things that I got— let them pass. Let me but truly possess the things that I ever spurned and overlooked.
93 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 86 GITANJALI 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 my 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.
GITANJALI 87 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 in¬ scrutable 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.
88 GITANJALI 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 thee I never questioned who thou wert. I knew nor shyness nor fear, my life was boisterous.
In the early morning thou wouldst GITANJALI 89 call me from my sleep like my own comrade and lead me running from glade to glade.
On those days I never cared to know the meaning of songs thou sangest to me. Only my voice took up the tunes, and my heart danced in their cadence.
Now, when the playtime is over, what is this sudden sight that is come upon me.? The world with eyes bent upon thy feet stands in awe with all its silent stars.
98 I WILL deck thee with trophies, garlands of my defeat. It is never in my power to escape unconquered.
I surely know my pride will go to the wall, my life will burst its bonds in ex¬ ceeding 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 90 GITANJALI 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 re¬ ceive at thy feet.
99 When I give up the helm I know that the time has come for thee to take it. What there is to do will be instantly done. Vain is this struggle.
Then take away your hands and silently put up with your defeat, my heart, and think it your good fortune to sit perfectly still where you are placed.
These my lamps are blown out at every little puff of wind, and trying to light them I forget all else again and again.
GITANJALI 91 But I shall be wise this time and wait in the dark, spreading my mat on the floor; and whenever it is thy pleasure, my lord, come silently and take thy seat here.
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 fathom¬ less 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 for ever, and, when it has sobbed out its last 92 GITANJALI utterance, lay down my silent harp at the feet of the silent.
Ever in my life have I sought thee with my songs. It was they who led me from door to door, and with them have I felt about me, searching and touching my world.
It was my songs that taught me all the lessons I ever learnt; they showed me secret paths, they brought before my sight many a star on the horizon of my heart.
They guided me all the day long to the mysteries of the country of pleasure and pain, and, at last, to what palace gate have they brought me in the evening at the end of my journey?
GITANJALI 93 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.
94 GITANJALI In one salutation to thee, my God, let all my senses spread out and touch this world at thy feet.
Like a rain-cloud of July hung low with its burden of unshed showers let all my mind bend down at thy door in one salutation to thee.
Let all my songs gather together their diverse strains into a single cur¬ rent and flow to a sea of silence in one salutation to thee.
Like a flock of homesick cranes flying night and day back to their mountain nests let all my life take its voyage to its eternal home in one salutation to thee.
These translations are of poems con¬ tained in three books — Naivedya, Khey4, and Gitanjali — to be had at the Indian Publishing House, 22 Cornwallis Street, Calcutta; and of a few poems which have appeared only in periodicals.
95 INDEX OF FIRST WORDS No.
Art thou abroad on this stormy night. 23 At this time of my parting, wish me good Beautiful is thy wristlet, decked with stars. 53 By all means they try to hold me secure. 32 Clouds heap upon clouds...18 Day after day, O lord of my life, shall I Death, thy servant, is at my door.. 86 Deity of the ruined temple! The broken Deliverance is not for me in renunciation. 73 Early in the day it was whispered.. 42 Ever in my life have I sought thee.. 101 Have you not heard his silent steps.^ • 45 He came and sat by my side. 26 He it is, the innermost one. 72 He whom I enclose with my name is weeping 29 Here is thy footstool. 10 97 98 GITANJALI No.
I am here to sing thee songs. 15 I am like a remnant of a cloud of autumn. 80 I am only waiting for love. 17 I asked nothing from thee; I uttered not.. 54 I boasted among men that I had known you 102 I came out alone on my way. 30 I dive down into the depth of the ocean.. 100 I had gone a-begging from door to door.. 50 I have got my leave. Bid me farewell.. 93 I have had my invitation. 16 I know not from what distant time...46 I know not how thou singest, my master!. 3 I know that the day will come when my sight 92 I know thee as my God and stand apart.. 77 I must launch out my boat. 21 I thought I should ask of thee — but I dared I thought that my voyage had come to its end 37 I was not aware of the moment...95 I will deck thee with trophies. 98 If it is not my portion to meet thee...79 If the day is done, if birds sing no more.. 24 If thou speakest not I will fill my heart.. 19 In desperate hope I go and search for her. 87 In one salutation to thee, my God...103 In the deep shadows of the rainy July.. 22 In the night of weariness let me give myself Is it beyond thee to be glad with the gladness 70 It is the pang of separation. 84 INDEX OF FIRST WORDS 99 No.
Languor is upon your heart. 55 Leave this chanting and singing...11 Let all the strains of joy mingle in my last song 58 Let only that little be left of me...34 Life of my life, I shall ever try. 4 Light, my light, the world-filling light.. 57 Light, oh where is the light?. 27 Mother, I shall weave a chain of pearls.. 83 My desires are many and my cry is pitiful. 14 My song has put off her adornments...7 No more noisy, loud words from me...89 O fool, to try to carry thyself. 9 O Thou the last fulfilment of life...91 Obstinate are the trammels. 28 On many an idle day have I grieved...81 On the day when death will knock at thy door 90 On the day when the lotus bloomed...20 On the seashore of endless worlds children meet 60 On the slope of the desolate river among tall grasses. 64 Pluck this little flower. 6 Prisoner, tell me, who was it. 31 She who ever had remained in the depth.. 66 That I should make much of myself...71 That I want thee, only thee. 38 The child who is decked with prince’s robes 8 The day is no more, the shadow is upon the earth. 74 GITANJALI No.
The day was when I did not keep myself.. 43 The morning sea of silence broke into ripples 48 The night darkened. Our day’s works had been done. 51 The night is nearly spent waiting for him. 47 The rain was held back for days and days. 40 The same stream of life that runs through my veins. 69 The sleep that flits on baby’s eyes...61 The song that I came to sing remains unsung 13 The time that my journey takes is long.. 12 This is my delight, thus to wait and watcb. 44 This is my prayer to thee, my lord...36 Thou art the sky and thou art the nest.. 67 Thou hast made me endless. 1 Thou hast made me known to friends whom I knew not. 63 Thus it is that thy joy in me is so full.. 56 Thy gifts to us mortals fulfil all our needs. 75 Thy sunbeam comes upon this earth of mine 68 Time is endless in thy hands, my lord.. 82 What divine drink wouldst thou have, my God 65 When I bring to you coloured toys, my child 62 When I give up the helm I know that the time has come. 99 When I go from hence let this be my parting word. 96 When it was day they came into my house. 33 When my play was with thee I never ques¬ tioned. 97 INDEX OF FIRST WORDS 101 No.
When the creation was new and all the stars shone. 78 When the heart is hard and parched up.. 39 When the warriors came out first...85 When thou commandest me to sing...2 Where dost thou stand behind them all.. 41 Where the mind is without fear...35 Yes, I know, this is nothing but thy love. 59 You came down from your throne...49 THE END Printed in the United States of America.
•yHE following pages contain advertisements of Macmillan books by the same author RABINDRANATH TAGORE’S NEW DRAMA The King of the Dark Chamber By RABINDRANATH TAGORE “The real poetical imagination of it is unchangeable; the allegory, subtle and profound and yet simple, is cast into the form of a dramatic narrative, which moves with unconventional freedom to a finely impressive climax; and the reader, who began in idle curiosity, finds his intelligence more and more engaged until, when he turns the last page, he has the feeling of one who has been moving in worlds not realized, and communing with great if mysterious presences.”
The London Globe.
PUBLISHED BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York BY RABINDRANATH TAGORE Nohd Prizeman in Literature, IQ13. Author of “Gitanjali,” “ The Gardener* “The Crescent Moon,” “Sadhana.”
Chitra A Play in One Act Cloth, i2mo. $1.00 This is a little lyrical drama based upon an incident in the Mahabharata. In the course of his wanderings in fulfillment of a vow of penance Arjuna comes to Manipur. There he sees Chitrangada, the daughter of Chitravahana, the king of the country. Smitten with her charms, he asks the king for the hand of his daughter. Out of the king’s reply and the conditions which he imposes upon Arjuna the story develops. It is a rare bit of idealistic writing, as beautiful in its thought as it is in expression.
“We did not look for an Oriental even though a seer, to write a book (especially twenty-five years ago when this was written) that might serve as example to the most advanced among modern Occidental women — yet this is just what Tagore has done. Extended comment upon Mr. Tagore’s play is unnecessary. It is at once as clear and as profound as a mountain pool.” N. Y. Times.
PUBLISHED BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York RABINDRANATH TAGORE’S The Post Office Clotii, i2mo. $1.00 “...filled with tender pathos and spiritual beauty. There are two acts, and the story is that of a frail little Indian lad condemned to seclusion and inaction by ill health. He makes a new world for himself, however, by his imagination and insatiable curiosity, and the passersby bring the world of action to him. The play has been presented in England by the Irish Players, and fuUy adapts itself to the charming simplicity and charm which are their principal characteristics.” Phila. Public Ledger.
“A beautiful and appealing piece of dramatic work.” Boston Transcript.
“Once more Tagore demonstrates the universality of his genius; once more he shows how art and true feeling know no racial and no religious lines.” Kentucky Post.
“One reads in ‘The Post Office’ his own wiU of symbolism. Simplicity and a pervading, appealing pathos are the qualities transmitted to its lines by the poet” N.Y. World.
“He writes from his soul; there is neither bombast nor didacticism. His poems bring one to the quiet places where the soul speaks to the soul surely hut serenely.” N. F. American.
PUBLISHED BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York OTHER WORKS BY RABINDRANATH TAGORE Nolel Prizeman in Literature, IQ13 GITANJALI (Song Offerings). A Collection of Prose Translations made by the author from the original Bengali. New Edition 1 1.25 THE GARDENER. Poems of Youth $1.25 THE CRESCENT MOON. Child Poems. (Colored Ill.) $1.25 SADHANA: THE REALIZATION OF LIFE. A volume of essays $1.25 All four by Rabindranath Tagore, translated by the author from the original Bengali.
Rabindranath Tagore is the Hindu poet and preacher to whom the Nobel Prize was recently awarded...I would commend these volumes, and especially the one entitled “Sad- hana,” the collection of essays, to all intelligent readers. I know of nothing, except it be Maeterlinck, in the whole modern range of the literature of the inner life that can compare with them.
There are no preachers nor writers upon spiritual topics, whether in Europe or America, that have the depth of insight, the quickness of religious apper¬ ception, combined with the intellectual honesty and scientific clearness of Here is a book from a master, free as the air, with a mind universal as the sunshine. He writes, of course, from the standpoint of the Hindu. But, strange to say, his spirit and teaching come nearer to Jesus, as we find Him in the Gospels, than any modern Christian writer I know.
He does for the average reader what Bergson and Eucken are doing for scholars; he rescues the soul and its faculties from their enslavement to logic-chopping. He shows us the way back to Nature and her spiritual voices.
He rebukes our materialistic, wealth-mad. Western life with the dignity and authority of one of the old Hebrew prophets...He opens up the meaning of life. He makes us feel the redeeming fact that life is tremendous, a worth-while adventure. “Everything has sprung from immortal life and is vibrating with life. LIFE IS IMMENSE.”...Tagore is a great human being. His heart is warm with love. His thoughts are pure and high as the galaxy.
(Copyright, ipij, by Frank Crane.) Reprinted by permissioa from the New York Glob*, Dec. iS, 1913.
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