Gitanjali — Song 51
Gitanjali — Song 51
Rabindranath Tagore
The night darkened. Our day’s works had been done. We thought that the
last guest had arrived for the night and the doors in the village were
all shut. Only some said the king was to come. We laughed and said “No,
it cannot be!”
It seemed there were knocks at the door and we said it was nothing but
the wind. We put out the lamps and lay down to sleep. Only some said,
“It is the messenger!” We laughed and said “No, it must be the wind!”
There came a sound in the dead of the night. We sleepily thought it was
the distant thunder. The earth shook, the walls rocked, and it troubled
us in our sleep. Only some said it was the sound of wheels. We said in
a drowsy murmur, “No, it must be the rumbling of clouds!”
The night was still dark when the drum sounded. The voice came “Wake
up! delay not!” We pressed our hands on our hearts and shuddered with
fear. Some said, “Lo, there is the king’s flag!” We stood up on our
feet and cried “There is no time for delay!”
The king has come—but where are lights, where are wreaths? Where is the
throne to seat him? Oh, shame! Oh utter shame! Where is the hall, the
decorations? Someone has said, “Vain is this cry! Greet him with empty
hands, lead him into thy rooms all bare!”
Open the doors, let the conch-shells be sounded! in the depth of the
night has come the king of our dark, dreary house. The thunder roars in
the sky. The darkness shudders with lightning. Bring out thy tattered
piece of mat and spread it in the courtyard. With the storm has come of
a sudden our king of the fearful night.
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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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