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POEMS OF THE PERIOD
poezie [ ]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
de [RABINDRANATH_TAGORE ]

2005-04-25  | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english]    |  Înscris în bibliotecă de Sorana Lucia Salomeia



POEMS OF THE PERIOD:
by Rabindranath Tagore


The first day's sun
asked
at the new manifestation of being-
Who are you?
No answer came.
Year after year went by,
the last sun of the day
the last question utters
on the western sea-shore,
in the silent evening-
Who are you?
He gets no answer.

~~~

Soon, I feel
the time comes near to leave.
With sunset shadings
screen the parting day.
Let the hour be silent; let it be peaceful.
Let not any pompous memories or meetings
create a sorrow's stance.
May the trees at the gate
raise the earth's chant of peace
in a cluster of green leaves.
May the night's blessings be
in the light of the seven stars.

~~~


Here lies the ocean of peace,
Helmsman, launch the boat.
You will always be the comrade.
Take, O take him to your heart.
In the path of the Infinite
will shine the "Dhruba-tara". (North Star)
Giver of freedom, your forgiveness, your mercy
will be wealth inexhaustible
in the eternal journey.
May the mortal bonds perish,
May the vast universe take him in its arms,
And may he know in his fearless heart
The great unknown.

~~~


You have covered the path of your creation
in a mesh of varied wiles,
Guileful One.
Deftly you have set a snare of false beliefs
in artless lives.
With your deception
you have set the great man on trial
taking from him the secrecy of night.
Your star lights for him
the truculent path of his heart,
illuminated by a simple faith.
Through tortuous outside
it is straight within,
and there in his pride.
Though men call him futile,
in the depth of his heart he finds truth
washed clean by the inner light.
Nothing can deprive him;
he carries to his treasure-house
his last reward.
He who could easily bear your wile,
receives from you the right
to everlasting peace.

~~~

On that birthday morning,
With deference
I lifted my eyes to the sunrise.
I saw the dawn
Consecrate
The white forehead of mountain ranges.
I beheld
The great distance
In creation's heart
On the throne of the lord of mountains.
From ages, majestic,
He has preserved the unknown
In the trackless forest;
The sky-cleaving, far-away,
Encircled
In sunrise and sunset.

On this birthday,
The great distance grows in my heart.
The starry path is nebular,
Mysterious;
And my own remoteness
Impenetrable.
The pilgrim moves, his path unseen,
The consequence unknown.
Today
I hear the traveller's footsteps
From my lonely seashore.



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