Gitanjali — Song 53
Gitanjali — Song 53
Rabindranath Tagore
Beautiful is thy wristlet, decked with stars and cunningly wrought in
myriad-coloured jewels. But more beautiful to me thy sword with its
curve of lightning like the outspread wings of the divine bird of
Vishnu, perfectly poised in the angry red light of the sunset.
It quivers like the one last response of life in ecstasy of pain at the
final stroke of death; it shines like the pure flame of being burning
up earthly sense with one fierce flash.
Beautiful is thy wristlet, decked with starry gems; but thy sword, O
lord of thunder, is wrought with uttermost beauty, terrible to behold
or think of.
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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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