Gitanjali — Song 47
Gitanjali — Song 47
Rabindranath Tagore
The night is nearly spent waiting for him in vain. I fear lest in the
morning he suddenly come to my door when I have fallen asleep wearied
out. Oh friends, leave the way open to him— forbid him not.
If the sounds of his steps does not wake me, do not try to rouse me, I
pray. I wish not to be called from my sleep by the clamorous choir of
birds, by the riot of wind at the festival of morning light. Let me
sleep undisturbed even if my lord comes of a sudden to my door.
Ah, my sleep, precious sleep, which only waits for his touch to vanish.
Ah, my closed eyes that would open their lids only to the light of his
smile when he stands before me like a dream emerging from darkness of
sleep.
Let him appear before my sight as the first of all lights and all
forms. The first thrill of joy to my awakened soul let it come from his
glance. And let my return to myself be immediate return to him.
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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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