Kindle it with the burning fire of desire

Light, oh where is the light?
Kindle it with the burning fire of desire!

There is the lamp
But never a flicker of a flame -
Is such thy fate, my heart!
Ah, death were better by far for thee!

Misery knocks at thy door,
And her message is that thy lord is wakeful,
And he calls thee to thy 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 wind rushes screaming throughout the void.
The night is black as black stone.
Let not the hours pass by the dark.
Kindle the lamp of love with thy life.

Verse 27, Gitanjali,
Rabindranath Tagore

Resonating dreams

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?

Gitanjali - Verse 26
Rabindranath Tagore

Fresher gladness of awakening

In the night of weariness
Let me give myself up to sleep without struggle,
Resting my trust upon thee.

Let me knot force my flagging spirit
Into a poor preparation for thy worship.

It is thou who drawest the veil of night
Upon the tired eyes of the day
To renew its sight in a fresher gladness of awakening.

Cover of thy kindly night

If the day is done,
If birds sing no more,
If the wind has flagged tired,
Then draw the veil of darkness thick upon me,
Even as thou hast wrapt the Earth
With the coverlet of sleep
And tenderly closed the petals of drooping lotus at dusk.

From the traveller,
Whose sack of provisions is empty
Before the voyage ended,
Whose garment is torn and dust laden,
Whose strength is exhausted,
Remove shame and poverty,
And renew his life like a flower
Under the cover of thy kindly night.

- Verse 24, Gitanjali

Rabindranath Tagore

Thy course

Art thou abroad on this stormy night on the journey of love, my friend?
The sky groans like one in despair.

I have no sleep to-night.
Ever again I open my door and look out
On the darkness, my friend!

I can see nothing before me.
I wonder where lies thy path!

By what dim shore of ink-black river,
By what far edge of the frowning forest,
Through what mazy depth of gloom
Art thou threading thy course to come to me, my friend?

- Verse 23, Gitanjali
Rabindranath Tagore

My only friend

In the deep shadows of the rainy July,
With secret steps, thou walkest,
Silent as night,
Eluding all watchers.

Today the morning has closed its eyes,
Heedless of the insistent calls of 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,
Thou art 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.

Verse 22, Gitanjali,
Rabindranath Tagore.

The thrill of the far away song

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?

Verse 21 - Gitanjali
Rabindranath Tagore

The lotus of my heart

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 sweet trace
Of a strange fragrance in the south wind.

That vague sweetness
Made my heart ache with longing
And it seemed to me
That it was the eager breath
Of the summer seeking for its completion.

I knew not then
That it was so near,
That it was mine,
And that this perfect sweetness
Had blossomed in the depth of my own heart.

Verse 20, Gitanjali
Rabindranath Tagore