Gitanjali — Song 48
Gitanjali — Song 48
Rabindranath Tagore
The morning sea of silence broke into ripples of bird songs; and the
flowers were all merry by the roadside; and the wealth of gold was
scattered through the rift of the clouds while we busily went on our
way and paid no heed.
We sang no glad songs nor played; we went not to the village for
barter; we spoke not a word nor smiled; we lingered not on the way. We
quickened our pace more and more as the time sped by.
The sun rose to the mid sky and doves cooed in the shade. Withered
leaves danced and whirled in the hot air of noon. The shepherd boy
drowsed and dreamed in the shadow of the banyan tree, and I laid myself
down by the water and stretched my tired limbs on the grass.
My companions laughed at me in scorn; they held their heads high and
hurried on; they never looked back nor rested; they vanished in the
distant blue haze. They crossed many meadows and hills, and passed
through strange, far-away countries. All honour to you, heroic host of
the interminable path! Mockery and reproach pricked me to rise, but
found no response in me. I gave myself up for lost in the depth of a
glad humiliation—in the shadow of a dim delight.
The repose of the sun-embroidered green gloom slowly spread over my
heart. I forgot for what I had travelled, and I surrendered my mind
without struggle to the maze of shadows and songs.
At last, when I woke from my slumber and opened my eyes, I saw thee
standing by me, flooding my sleep with thy smile. How I had feared that
the path was long and wearisome, and the struggle to reach thee was
hard!
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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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