Complete Works. Rabindranath Tagore
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your sight into the heart of things.
And when my voice is silent in death, my song will speak in your living heart.
THE CHILD-ANGEL
They clamour and fight, they doubt and despair, they know no end to their wranglings.
Let your life come amongst them like a flame of light, my child, unflickering and pure, and delight them into silence.
They are cruel in their greed and their envy, their words are like hidden knives thirsting for blood.
Go and stand amidst their scowling hearts, my child, and let your gentle eyes fall upon them like the forgiving peace of the evening over the strife of the day.
Let them see your face, my child, and thus know the meaning of all things; let them love you and thus love each other.
Come and take your seat in the bosom of the limitless, my child. At sunrise open and raise your heart like a blossoming flower, and at sunset bend your head and in silence complete the worship of the day.
THE LAST BARGAIN
"Come and hire me," I cried, while in the morning I was walking on the stone-paved road.
Sword in hand, the King came in his chariot.
He held my hand and said, "I will hire you with my power."
But his power counted for nought, and he went away in his chariot.
In the heat of the midday the houses stood with shut doors.
I wandered along the crooked lane.
An old man came out with his bag of gold.
He pondered and said, "I will hire you with my money."
He weighed his coins one by one, but I turned away.
It was evening. The garden hedge was all aflower.
The fair maid came out and said, "I will hire you with a smile."
Her smile paled and melted into tears, and she went back alone into the dark.
The sun glistened on the sand, and the sea waves broke waywardly.
A child sat playing with shells.
He raised his head and seemed to know me, and said, "I hire you with nothing."
From thenceforward that bargain struck in child's play made me a free man.
STRAY BIRDS
TO T. HARA
OF YOKOHAMA
STRAY BIRDS
1
Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away.
And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh.
2
O troupe of little vagrants of the world, leave your footprints in my words.
3
The world puts off its mask of vastness to its lover.
It becomes small as one song, as one kiss of the eternal.
4
It is the tears of the earth that keep her smiles in bloom.
5
The mighty desert is burning for the love of a blade of grass who shakes her head and laughs and flies away.
6
If you shed tears when you miss the sun, you also miss the stars.
7
The sands in your way beg for your song and your movement, dancing water. Will you carry the burden of their lameness.
8
Her wistful face haunts my dreams like the rain at night.
9
Once we dreamt that we were) strangers.
We wake up to find that we were dear to each other.
10
Sorrow is hushed into peace in my heart like the evening among the silent trees.
11
Some unseen fingers, like idle breeze, are playing upon my heart the music of the ripples.
12
"What language is thine, O sea?"
"The language of eternal question."
"What language is thy answer, O sky?"
"The language of eternal silence."
13
Listen, my heart, to the whispers of the world with which it makes love to you.
14
The mystery of creation is like the darkness of night—it is great. Delusions of knowledge are like the fog of the morning.
15
Do not seat your love upon a precipice because it is high.
16
I sit at my window this morning where the world like a passer-by stops For a moment, nods to me and goes.
17
These little thoughts are the rustle of leaves; they have their whisper of joy in my mind.
18
What you are you do not see, what you see is your shadow.
19
My wishes are fools, they shout across thy songs, my Master.
Let me but listen.
20
I cannot choose the best.
The best chooses me.
21
They throw their shadows before them who carry their lantern on their back.
22
That I exist is a perpetual surprise which is life.
23
"We, the rustling leaves, have a voice that answers the storms, but who are you so silent?"
"I am a mere flower."
24
Rest belongs to the work as the eyelids to the eyes.
25
Man is a born child, his power is the power of growth.
26
God expects answers for the flowers he sends us, not for the sun and the earth.
27
The light that plays, like a naked child, among the green leaves happily knows not that man can lie.
28
O Beauty, find thyself in love, not in the flattery of thy mirror.
29
My heart beats her waves at the shore of the world and writes upon it her signature in tears with the words, "I love thee."
30
"Moon, for what do you wait?"
"To salute the sun for