The Essential Works of Tagore. Rabindranath TagoreЧитать онлайн книгу.

play is stilled into worship, life’s stream touches the deep, and the world of forms comes to its nest in the beauty beyond all forms.

Who is awake all alone in this sleeping earth, in the air drowsing among the moveless leaves? awake in the silent birds’ nests, in the secret centres of the flower buds? awake in the throbbing stars of the night, in the depth of the pain of my being?

You came to my door in the dawn and sang; it angered me to be awakened from sleep, and you went away unheeded.

You came in the noon and asked for water; it vexed me in my work, and you were sent away with reproaches.

You came in the evening with your flaming torches.

You seemed to me like a terror and I shut my door.

Now in the midnight I sit alone in my lampless room and call you back whom I turned away in insult.

Pick up this life of mine from the dust.

Keep it under your eyes, in the palm of your right hand.

Hold it up in the light, hide it under the shadow of death; keep it in the casket of the night with your stars, and then in the morning let it find itself among flowers that blossom in worship.

I know that this life, missing its ripeness in love, is not altogether lost.

I know that the flowers that fade in the dawn, the streams that strayed in the desert, are not altogether lost.

I know that whatever lags behind in this life laden with slowness is not altogether lost.

I know that my dreams that are still unfulfilled, and ray melodies still unstruek, are clinging to some lute-strings of thine, and they are not altogether lost.

You came to me in the wayward hours of spring with flute songs and flowers.

You troubled my heart from ripples into waves, rocking the red lotus of love.

You asked me to come out with you into the secret of life.

But I fell asleep among the murmurous leaves of May

When I woke the cloud gathered in the sky and the dead leaves flitted in the wind.

Through the patter of rain I hear your nearing footsteps and the cry to come out with you into the secret of death.

I walk to your side and put my hand into yours, while your eyes burn and water drips from your hair.

The day is dim with rain.

Angry lightnings glance through the tattered cloud-veils

And the forest is like a caged lion shaking its mane in despair.

On such a day amidst the winds beating their wings, let me find my peace in thy presence.

For the sorrowing sky has shadowed my solitude, to deepen the meaning of thy touch about my heart.

On that night when the storm broke open my door

I did not know that you entered my room through the ruins,

For the lamp was blown out, and it became dark;

I stretched my arms to the sky in search of help.

I lay on the dust waiting in the tumultuous dark and I knew not that storm was your own banner.

When the morning came I saw you standing upon the emptiness that was spread over my house.

Is it the Destroyer who comes?

For the boisterous sea of tears heaves in the floodtide of pain.

The crimson clouds run wild in the wind lashed by lightning, and the thundering laughter of the Mad is over the sky.

Life sits in the chariot crowned by Death.

Bring out your tribute to him of all that you have.

Do not hug your savings to your heart, do not look behind,

Bend your head at his feet, trailing your hair in the dust.

Take to the road from this moment.

For the lamp is blown out and the house is desolate.

The storm winds scream through your doors, the walls are rocking, and the call comes from the land of dimness beyond your ken.

Hide not your face in terror; tears are in vain; your door chains have snapped.

Run out for your voyage to the end of all joys and sorrows.

Let your steps be the steps of a desperate dance. Sing “Victory to Life in Death.’*

Accept your destiny, 0 Bride!

Put on your red robe to follow through the darkness the torchlight of the Bridegroom!

I came nearest to you, though I did not know it,—when I came to hurt you.

I owned you at last as my master when I fought against you to be defeated.

I merely made my debt to you burdensome when I robbed you in secret.

I struggled in my pride against your current only to feel all your force in my breast.

Rebelliously I put out the light in my house and your sky surprised me with its stars.

Have you come to me as my sorrow? All the more I must cling to you.

Your face is veiled in the dark, all the more I must see you.

At the blow of death from your hand let my life leap up in a flame.

Tears flow from my eyes,—let them flow round your feet in worship.

And let the pain in my breast speak to me that you are still mine.

I hid myself to evade you.

Now that I am caught at last, strike me, see if I flinch.

Finish the game for good.

If you win in the end, strip me of all that I have.

I have had my laughter and songs in wayside booths and stately halls,—now that you have come into my life, make me weep, see if you can break my heart.

When I awake in thy love my night of ease will be ended.

Thy sunrise will touch my heart with its touchstone of fire, and my voyage will begin in its orbit of triumphant suffering.

I shall dare to take up death’s challenge and carry thy voice in the heart of mockery and menace.

I shall bare my breast against the wrongs hurled at thy children, and take the risk of standing by thy side where none but thee remains.

I am the weary earth of summer bare of life and parched.

I wait for thy shower to come down in the night when I open my breast and receive it in silence.

I long to give thee in return my songs and flowers.

But empty is my store, and only the deep sigh rises from my heart through the withered grass.

But I know that thou wilt wait for the morning when my hours will brim with their riches.

Come to me like summer cloud, spreading thy showers from

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