Gitanjali — Song 41
Gitanjali — Song 41
Rabindranath Tagore
Where dost thou stand behind them all, my lover, hiding thyself in the
shadows? They push thee and pass thee by on the dusty road, taking thee
for naught. I wait here weary hours spreading my offerings for thee,
while passers-by come and take my flowers, one by one, and my basket is
nearly empty.
The morning time is past, and the noon. In the shade of evening my eyes
are drowsy with sleep. Men going home glance at me and smile and fill
me with shame. I sit like a beggar maid, drawing my skirt over my face,
and when they ask me, what it is I want, I drop my eyes and answer them
not.
Oh, how, indeed, could I tell them that for thee I wait, and that thou
hast promised to come. How could I utter for shame that I keep for my
dowry this poverty. Ah, I hug this pride in the secret of my heart.
I sit on the grass and gaze upon the sky and dream of the sudden
splendour of thy coming—all the lights ablaze, golden pennons flying
over thy car, and they at the roadside standing agape, when they see
thee come down from thy seat to raise me from the dust, and set at thy
side this ragged beggar girl a-tremble with shame and pride, like a
creeper in a summer breeze.
But time glides on and still no sound of the wheels of thy chariot.
Many a procession passes by with noise and shouts and glamour of glory.
Is it only thou who wouldst stand in the shadow silent and behind them
all? And only I who would wait and weep and wear out my heart in vain
longing?
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Complete 103-poem English Gitanjali, translated by the author and published in 1912. · Translated by Rabindranath Tagore
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