Walk Alone

If they answer not to your call walk alone

If they are afraid and cower mutely facing the wall,

O thou unlucky one,

open your mind and speak out alone.

If they turn away, and desert you when crossing the wilderness,

O thou unlucky one,

trample the thorns under thy tread,

and along the blood-lined track travel alone.

If they shut doors and do not hold up the light when the night is troubled with storm,

O thou unlucky one,

with the thunder flame of pain ignite your own heart,

and let it burn alone.

Rabindranath Tagore

(Picture: Has been in desert, Vasily Polenov)

Thou hast made me endless

Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.

This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.

The Prisoner

`Prisoner, tell me, who was it that bound you?'

`It was my master,' said the prisoner. `I thought I could outdo

everybody in the world in wealth and power, and I amassed in

my own treasure-house the money due to my king. When sleep

overcame me I lay upon the bed that was for my lord, and on

waking up I found I was a prisoner in my own treasure-house.'

`Prisoner, tell me, who was it that wrought this unbreakable

chain?'

Purity

Life of my life, I shall ever try to keep my body pure, knowing

that thy living touch is upon all my limbs.

I shall ever try to keep all untruths out from my thoughts,

knowing that thou art that truth which has kindled the light of

reason in my mind.

My song

This song of mine will wind its music around you,

my child, like the fond arms of love.

The song of mine will touch your forehead

like a kiss of blessing.

When you are alone it will sit by your side and

whisper in your ear, when you are in the crowd

it will fence you about with aloofness.

Mind without fear

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;

Where knowledge is free;

Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by

narrow domestic walls;

Where words come out from the depth of truth;

Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;

Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the

dreary desert sand of dead habit;

Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening

thought and action -

Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

Rabindranath Tagore 

(Picture: Ci meurent les cardinaux, Max Ernst)

Sympathy

If I were only a little puppy, not your baby, mother dear,

would you say “No” to me if I tried to eat from your dish?

Would you drive me off, saying to me,

“Go away, you naughty little puppy”?

Then go, mother, go! I will never come to you when you call me,

and l will never let you feed me any more.

If I were only a little green parrot, and not your baby,

mother dear, would you keep me chained lest I should fly away?

Greed

 When it was day they came into my house and said, `We shall

only take the smallest room here.'

They said, `We shall help you in the worship of your God and

humbly accept only our own share in his grace'; and then they

took their seat in a corner and they sat quiet and meek.

But in the darkness of night I find they break into my sacred

shrine, strong and turbulent, and snatch with unholy greed

the offerings from God's altar.

Rabindranath Tagore

(Picture: Altar, Luc Tuymans)

Unending Love

I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.

Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, its age-old pain,
Its ancient tale of being apart or together.
As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,
Clad in the light of a pole-star piercing the darkness of time:
You become an image of what is remembered forever.

The Kiss

Lips' language to lips' ears.
Two drinking each other's heart, it seems.
Two roving loves who have left home,
pilgrims to the confluence of lips.
Two waves rise by the law of love
to break and die on two sets of lips.
Two wild desires craving each other
meet at last at the body's limits.
Love's writing a song in dainty letters,
layers of kiss-calligraphy on lips.
Plucking flowers from two sets of lips
perhaps to thread them into a chain later.
This sweet union of lips
is the red marriage-bed of a pair of smiles.

The Gardener

(66)

A wandering madman was seeking
the touchstone, with matted locks,
tawny and dust-laden, and body worn
to a shadow, his lips tight-pressed,
like the shut-up doors of his heart,
his burning eyes like the lamp of a
glow-worm seeking its mate.

Before him the endless ocean
roared.
The garrulous waves ceaselessly
talked of hidden treasures, mocking
the ignorance that knew not their
meaning.