The Essential Works of Tagore. Rabindranath TagoreЧитать онлайн книгу.

word has rent its veils, the buds of morning are opened; awake, O sleeper!

Light’s greetings spread from the East to the West,

And at the ramparts of the ruined prison rise the paeans of Victory!

In this moment I see you seated upon the morning’s golden carpet.

The sun shines in your crown, the stars drop at your feet, the crowds come and bow to you and go, and the poet sits speechless in the corner.

My guest has come to my door in this autumn morning.

Sing, my heart, sing thy welcome!

Make thy song the song of the sunlit blue, of the dew-damp air, of the lavish gold of harvest fields, of the laughter of the loud water.

Or stand mute before him for awhile gazing at his face;

Then leave thy house and go out with him in silence.

I lived on the shady side of the road and watched my neighbours’ gardens across the way revelling in the sunshine.

I felt I was poor, and from door to door went with my hunger.

The more they gave me from their careless abundance the more I became aware of my beggar’s bowl.

Till one morning I awoke from my sleep at the sudden opening of my door, and you came and asked for alms.

In despair I broke the lid of my chest open and was startled into finding my own wealth.

Tnou hast taken him to thine arms and crowned him with death, him who ever waited outside like a beggar at life’s feast.

Thou hast put thy right hand on his failures and kissed him with peace that stills life’s turbulent thirst.

Thou hast made him one with all kings and with the ancient world of wisdom.

In the world’s dusty road I lost my heart, but you picked it up in your hand.

I gleaned sorrow while seeking for joy, but the sorrow which you sent to me has turned to joy in my life.

My desires were scattered in pieces, you gathered them and strung them in your love.

And while I wandered from door to door, every step led me to your gate.

I was with the crowd when I was in the road;

Where the road ends I find myself alone with you.

I knew not when my day dimmed into dusk and my companions left me.

I knew not when your doors opened and I stood surprised at my own heart’s music.

But are there still traces of tears in my eyes though the bed is made, the lamp is lit, and we are alone, you and I?

When they came and clamoured and surrounded me they hid thee from my sight.

I thought I would bring to thee my gifts last of all.

Now that the day has waned, and they have taken their dues and left me alone,

I see thee standing at the door.

But I find I have no gift remaining to give, and I hold both my hands up to thee.

Much have you given to me,

Yet I ask for more.—

I come to you not merely for the draught of water, but for the spring;

Not for guidance to the door alone, but to the Master’s hall; not only for the gift of love, but for the lover himself.

I have come to thee to take thy touch before I begin my day.

Let thy eyes rest upon my eyes for awhile.

Let me take to my work the assurance of thy comradeship, my friend.

Fill my mind with thy music to last through the desert of noise!

Let thy Love’s sunshine kiss the peaks of my thoughts and linger in my life’s valley where the harvest ripens.

Stand beford my eyes, and let thy glance touch my songs into a flame.

Stand among thy stars and let me find kindled in their lights my own fire of worship.

The earth is waiting at the world’s wayside;

Stand upon the green mantle she has flung upon thy path; and let me feel in her grass and meadow flowers the spread of my own salutation.

Stand in my lonely evening where my heart watches alone; fill her cup of solitude, and let me feel in me the infinity of thy love.

Let thy love play upon my voice and rest on my silence.

Let it pass through my heart into all my movements.

Let thy love like stars shine in the darkness of my sleep and dawn in my awakening.

Let it burn in the flame of my desires

And flow in all currents of my own love.

Let me carry thy love in my life as a harp does its music, and give it back to thee at last with my life.

Yotr hide yourself in your own glory, my King.

The sand-grain and the dew-drop are more proudly apparent than yourself.

The world unabashed calls all things its own that are yours—yet it is never brought to shame.

You make room for us while standing aside in silence; therefore love lights her own lamp to seek you and comes to your worship unbidden.

When from the house of feast I came back home, the spell of the midnight quieted the dance in my blood.

My heart became silent at once like a deserted theatre with its lamps out.

My mind crossed the dark and stood among the stars, and I saw that we were playing unafraid in the silent courtyard of our King’s palace.

I was musing last night on my spendthrift days, when I thought you spoke to me—

“In youth’s careless career you kept all the doors open in your house*

The world went in and out as it pleased—the world with its dust, doubts, and disorder— and with its music.

With the wild crowd I came to you again and again unknown and unbidden.

Had you kept shut your doors in wise seclusion how could I have found my way into your house?”

None needs be thrust aside to make room for you.

When love prepares your seat she prepares it for all.

Where the earthly King appears, guards keep out the crowd, but when you come, my King, the whole world comes in your wake.

With his morning songs he knocks at our door bringing his greetings of sunrise.

With him we take our cattle to the fields and play our flute in the shade.

We lose him to find him again and again in the market crowd.

In the busy hour of the day we come upon him of a sudden, sitting on the wayside grass.

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