Tagore & Gitanjali

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 is the most intricate which leads to the utter simplicity of a tune. The traveller 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!”

— Gitanjali 12, tr. Rabindranath Tagore · Gitanjali

In the night of weariness let me give myself up to sleep without struggle, resting my trust upon thee. Let me not 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.

— Gitanjali 25, tr. Rabindranath Tagore · Gitanjali

That I want thee, only thee—let my heart repeat without end. All desires that distract me, day and night, are false and empty to the core. As the night keeps hidden in its gloom the petition for light, even thus in the depth of my unconsciousness rings the cry—I want thee, only thee. As the storm still seeks its end in peace when it strikes against peace with all its might, even thus my rebellion strikes against thy love and still its cry is—I want thee, only thee.

— Gitanjali 38, tr. Rabindranath Tagore · Gitanjali

Light, my light, the world-filling light, the eye-kissing light, heart-sweetening light! Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the centre of my life; the light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love; the sky opens, the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth. The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light. Lilies and jasmines surge up on the crest of the waves of light. The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling, and it scatters gems in profusion. Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling, and gladness without measure. The heaven’s river has drowned its banks and the flood of joy is abroad.

— Gitanjali 57, tr. Rabindranath Tagore · Gitanjali

He it is, the innermost one, who awakens my being with his deep hidden touches. He it is who puts his enchantment upon these eyes and joyfully plays on the chords of my heart in varied cadence of pleasure and pain. He it is who weaves the web of this _maya_ in evanescent hues of gold and silver, blue and green, and lets peep out through the folds his feet, at whose touch I forget myself. Days come and ages pass, and it is ever he who moves my heart in many a name, in many a guise, in many a rapture of joy and of sorrow.

— Gitanjali 72, tr. Rabindranath Tagore · Gitanjali

Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless in facing them.

— Rabindranath Tagore · Gitanjali

The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day. I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument.

— Rabindranath Tagore · Gitanjali

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high; where knowledge is free — into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

— Rabindranath Tagore · Gitanjali

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high; where knowledge is free — into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

— Rabindranath Tagore · Gitanjali

The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day. I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument.

— Rabindranath Tagore · Gitanjali

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high; where knowledge is free — into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

— Rabindranath Tagore · Gitanjali

The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day. I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument.

— Rabindranath Tagore · Gitanjali

The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day. I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument.

— Rabindranath Tagore · Gitanjali