The shroud that covers me

Obstinate are the trammels,
But my heart aches when I try to break them.

Freedom is all I want,
But to hope for it I feel ashamed.

I am certain that priceless wealth is in thee.
And that thou art my best friend,
But I have not the heart to sweep away
The tinsel that that fills my room.

The shroud that covers me
Is the 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.

-Verse 28, Gitanjali
Rabindranath Tagore

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

Thy melodies will break forth

If you speakest not
I will fill my heart with thy silence
And endure it.
I will keep still and wait
Like the night with starry vigil
And its head bent low with patience.

The morning will surely come,
The darkness will vanish,
And thy voice pour down in golden streams
Breaking through the sky.

Then thy words will take wing in songs
From every one of my birds' nests,
And thy melodies will break forth
In flowers in all my forest groves.

My heart wanders wailing with restless wind

Clouds heap upon clouds, and it darkens.
Ah, love, why dost thou let me wait outside at the door all alone?

In the busy moments of noontide work
I am with the crowd,
But on this dark lonely day
It is only for thee that I hope.

If thou showest me not thy face,
If thou leaves 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 restless wind.

Verse 18, Gitanjali,
Rabindranath Tagore

Waiting for love to give myself into his hands

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 the 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.

Verse 17, Gitanjali
Rabindranath Tagore

My silent salutation

I have had my invitation to this world's festival,
And thus my life has been blessed.
My eyes have seen and my ears have heard.

It was my part at this feast to play
Upon my instrument, and I have done all I could.

Now, I ask, has the time come
At last when I may go in and see thy face
And offer thee my silent salutation?

Verse 16 - Gitanjali
Rabindranath Tagore.

I am here to sing thee songs

I am here to sing thee songs.
In this hall of thine, I have a corner seat.

In thy world I have no work to do;
My useless life can only break out
In tunes without a purpose.

When the hour strikes for thy silent worship
At dark temple of midnight,
Command me, my master,
To stand before thee to sing.

When in the morning air
The golden harp is tuned, honor me,
Commanding my presence.

Verse 15, Gitanjali,
Rabindranath Tagore. 

Saving me by thine hard refusals.

My desires are many
And my cry is pitiful,
But ever didst thou save me
By hard refusals;
And this strong mercy
Has been wrought into my life
Through and through.

Day by day thou art
Making me worthy
Of the simple, great gifts
That thou gavest to me unasked -
This sky and the light,
This body and the life,
And the mind -
Saving me from perils
of overmuch desire.

There are times
When I languidly linger
And times when I awaken
And hurry in search of my goal;
But cruelly thou hidest thyself from before me.

Day by day thou art
Making me worthy of thy full acceptance
By refusing me ever and anon,
Saving me from perils of weak, and uncertain desire.

- Verse 14 - Gitanjali
Rabindranath Tagore.

Meeting with him

The song that I came to sing
Remains unsung to this day.

I have spent my days in
Stringing and unstringing my instrument

The time has not come true,
The words have not been rightly set;
Only there is the agony
Of wishing my heart.

The blossom has not opened;
Only the wind 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.

- Verse 13 - Gitanjali
Rabindranath Tagore

To the innermost Shrine

The time that my journey takes is long and the way of it long.

I came out on the chariot

Of the first gleam of light,

And pursued my voyage 

Through the wildernesses of worlds

Leaving my track on many a star and planet.

It is the most distant course that

Comes nearest to thyself,

And that training its he most intricate

Which leads to the utter simplicity of a tune.

The traveler has to knock

At every alien door

To come to his own,

And one has to wander through all the 

outer worlds to reach the 

innermost shrine at the end.

My eyes strayed far and wide

Before I shut them and said, 

“Here art thou”!

The question and the cry,

“Oh, where?” melt into tears

Of a thousand streams and deluge the world

With the flood of the assurance, “I am!”

- Rabindranath Tagore

Verse 12, Gitanjali

Meet him in sweat of thy brow

Leave this chanting and singing
And telling of beads!
Whom dost thou worship
In this lonely dark corner
Of a temple with doors all shut?
Open thine eyes and see
Thy God is not before thee!

He is there where the tiller is tilling the hard ground
And where the path maker is breaking stones.
He is with them in sun and in shower,
And his garment is covered with dust.
Put off thy 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 thy meditations
And leave aside thy flowers and incense!
What harm is there if thy clothiers
Become tattered and stained?
Meet him and stand by him in toil
And in sweat of thy brow.

Poorest, lowliest and lost

Here is thy footstool and there rest
They feet where live the poorest,
And lowliest and lost.

When I try to bow to thee,
My obeisance cannot reach
Down to the depth where they feet reset
Among the poorest, the lowliest and lost.

Pride can never approach to where thou walkest
In the clothes of the humble among
The poorest, and lowliest, and lost.

My heart can never find its way to where
Thou keepest company with
The companionless among the
Poorest, the lowliest, and the lost.

- Rabindranath Tagore
Verse 10, Gitanjali

Offering by sacred love

O fool, to try to carry thyself upon
Thy own shoulders!
O beggar, to come to beg
At thy own door!

Leave all thy burden on his hands
Who can bear all,
And never look behind in regret.

Thy desire at once puts out the light
From the lamp it touches with its breath.
It is unholy -
Take not thy gifts
Through its unclean hands.
Accept only what is offered by sacred love.

- Rabindranath Tagore
Verse 9 - Gitanjali.