For My New Journey

At this moment of my parting from you

wish me good luck, my friends, for the sky
is glowing with a new dawn, inviting me
to my path that recoils so beautifully.

Ask not what I have with me to take there

for I start on my journey with empty hands
but an expectant heart, putting on also my wedding
garland without the red-brown dress of the traveller.

Though there are dangers on my way I still have no fear

in heart, for the evening star, also, will soon come out
and when my trip is done the lamenting tune, the refrain
of the dusk, too will be removed at the heaven’s door.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 94

Henry Victor          27.11.2012

The Edge of Life and Death

I was not aware of the moment that I first
crossed the edge of this present life, and I am unaware
of the power that exposed me into this unfamiliar
jungle like a bud in the forest at midnight.

But in the morning when I looked upon the light
I felt instantly that I was no stranger in this world
and that the impenetrable without name and form
had taken me in the arms in the form of my own mother.

And I know in death the same unknown will appear
as ever known, and since I love this life I know, for certain
I shall love death as well, for the child cries out only briefly
when the mother takes away the right breast to offer the left.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 95

Henry Victor          26.11.2012

Moment to Let Go Control

The time has come for you to take the helm

that I controlled in the past, and now the moment
for me to let go control has come, and I know
what there is to do will be done instantly.

Vain, therefore, is this struggle, oh my soul;
take away your hand, putting up silently

with your defeat and think it your good fortune
to sit perfectly still where you are presently placed.

I tried to light lamps forgetting all else are blown

out again and again at every little puff of wind;
but I shall be wise this time, my Lord, and wait in the dark
spreading my mat on the floor for you to take your seat.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 99

Henry Victor          25.11.2012

Time to Go

Now I have my leave to go my brothers

and sisters, hence, please bid me farewell.
I bow to you all and take my departure
and here I give back the keys of my door.

Now I give up all claims to my house
but ask only for last kind words from you
as we were neighbours for so long
when I received more than I could give.

Now the day has dawned and the lamp

that lit my dark corner is out
for a summons has come to me
and I am ready for my journey.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 93

Henry Victor          23.11.2012

Last Day

 

 

 

That last day, I know, will come

when my sight of this earth shall be lost
and my life will take its leave in silence
drawing that curtain over my eyes.

Yet stars will watch at night

and morning rise as before with hours
heaving for the living like sea waves
casting up pleasures and pains.

As I think of this, the end of all my moments

the barriers break and I see, clearly, your world
in the light of my death where treasures are trivial
but rare gems are the simple seats, lowliest livings.

Let those things that I longed in vain

and things that I have hoarded in past pass;
but let me possess those possessions
I snubbed and slighted as significantly trivial.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 92

Henry Victor          19.11.2012

Early Leave

Men and women hurry to the city market
where the sellers and buyers are busy
in business while I have my early leave
in middle of the day, in middle of my work.

No more loud or lousy words from me

for that is for me my Master's will
and hence I deal in whispers, murmurings
of heart, my speech and song into eternity.

Since I spent too many hours in the strife
let the flowers now bloom in my garden.
Though it is too early for blossoms to open
let the midday bees strike their idle hum.

Beyond that hectic strife of the good and the evil
it is now the pleasure of my playmate of the empty

days to draw my heart towards him, for I know not
why this sudden call and to what useless state.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 89

Henry Victor          19.11.2012

Ineffable

I boasted among men and women
that I had known you, and they see
your picture in all my works
and ask me, ‘Who is he?’

I do not know to answer them
so I say, ‘Indeed, I cannot tell.’
Denouncing me, they go away with disdain
while you sit there smiling.

Then I put stories of you into songs
as inspiration rush from my heart
and men and women come to me
saying, ‘Tell us the meaning.’

I do not know to answer them
so I say, ‘Who knows what they mean!’
Denouncing me, they go away with disdain
while you sit there smiling.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 102

Henry Victor          14.11.2012

Diwali, Festival of Light

Light, oh my light, my adorable,
filling, and over-flowing
in my world, oh light you caress
my eyes, sweetening my soul.

Dancing at the center of my being
you, oh light, strike the chords of my love
and the sky opens for the wind to run wild
even as laughter passes over my space.

In you, oh the sea of light, the butterflies spread
their sails as the lilies and jasmines surge
on the crest of your waves as you shatter
and scatter gold on clouds, gems in surplus.

Then more laughter spreads from leaf to leaf
an abundance of gladness
for the heaven's river too has broken its banks
as the flood of joy floods the entire cosmos.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 57

Henry Victor          12.11.2012

Returning to You

As I salute you, my God,
invisible, immortal and un-nameable,
let my senses spread
to touch this world, your foot-stool.

Like a July rain-cloud so low, unshed showers,
let my mind bend to greet you at your door
with my songs of diverse strains threaded in a single
current, and flow into you, a sea of silence.

Like a flock of cranes flying
night and day to their mountain nests
let my life journey into you, my home
that is eternal, and my love.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 103

Henry Victor          09.11.2012

Final Feat

Oh my death, you are the final feat
of my life, come hence, and whisper to me
for I keep watching for you daily, enduring
for your sake the joys and pains of my life.

All that I am, all that I have, all that I hope
and all my love always flowed towards you
in the depth of secrecy, and with one final
glance from you forever my life will be yours.
 
The flowers are now woven and the garland
is ready for the bridegroom, and after the wedding
the bride shall leave her home to meet you,
her master, alone in the solitude of the night.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 91

Henry Victor          06.11.2012

Freeing

Deliverance, for me, is not in renunciation but in thousand
bonds I feel the embrace of freedom, my delight, and you
forever pour the fresh drink of your wine in varied colours
and fragrance filling this earthen vessel to the brim.

My world will light its hundred different lamps
with your flame flickering and I will place
these lights on the altar of your temple
never shutting the doors of my senses.

The delights of sight, smell and hearing, and even
touch will bear your delight, an illumination
of my joy burning my illusions while my passions
my unrestrained desires, will ripe into fruits of love.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 73

Henry Victor          05.11.2012

Release from the Rat Race

Bird songs rippled the morning sea of silence
and the flowers were merry by the roadside
with wealth of golden rays scattered through the rift
of clouds as we, unaware of these, raced on our way.

Singing no glad songs, nor playing, or smiling
or speaking, or bartering in the village
never lingering on our way, we quickened
increasing speed as limbs of the clock sped by.

The sun moved to the mid sky and in the shade doves cooed
as withered leaves danced, whirled in the hot air of the noon
and the shepherd boy drowsed, dreamed under the banyan
tree as I rested my tired limbs on the grass beside the water.

My companions with scorn laughed at me holding their heads
high as they hurried on never looking back nor resting
vanishing in the distant blue haze crossing meadows and hills
passing through strange and far-away countries.

All honour to you, the heroic host of the ceaseless path!
As I greeted scorn and guilt pricked me to rise, and I found
no response in soul giving myself up for the lost,
a glad humiliation in the shadow of a dim delight.

The repose of the sun-embroidered green gloom
slowly spread over my heart and I forgot the purpose
for, and the goal of my travel, surrendering my mind
without struggle to the maze of shadows and songs.

At last when I woke from my slumber, opened my eyes
I saw you standing by me, flooding my sleep with your smile!
Oh, how I had feared that the path was long and so tiresome
and the struggle to reach you was hard!

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 48

Henry Victor          04.11.2012

The Signature of Eternity

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       
The day when I was not ready for you, Oh my King
you entered my cave, my heart, uninvited and unknown
as one in the common crowd, pressing the ring
of eternity on countless fleeting moments of my life.

Today when by chance I reflect on those minutes
and see your indelible signature laying scattered
in the cosmic dust mixed with the misty memory
of joys and sorrows of my trivial days forgotten.

But you never turn away from my childish play
with dust and mist, or disregard me for my lack of a track,
and I know the foot-steps that I hear in my playroom
are the same as those echoing from one star to another.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 43

Henry Victor          02.11.2012

Search for Eternity

In desperate search, but with hope
I go searching for eternity
in all the corners of my room
and I find her not.

My shack is small and that which leaves
this house is gone never to be regained
but infinite is your mansion, my Master
seeking eternity I have come to your door.

I stand under the golden canopy
of your evening sky
lifting my eyes to your face and see
I have come to the edge of eternity.

Nothing can vanish from this brink;
neither hope, nor happiness
nor the vision of a face
seen through my tears will ever shrink.

Oh Master, please dip my empty life
into that ocean, plunging it into its depth
and let me feel that lost touch
of the spirit of the universe.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 87

Henry Victor          01.11.2012

Unending Time

Time is unending in your hands, my Master
and there is none to count your minutes
as days and nights pass and ages blossom
and fade like flowers even as you wait.

Centuries follow each other perfecting a small
wild flower and with us we have no time to lose
and having no time we must scramble and crawl
for a chance as we are too poor to be late.

It is time that goes by as I give it to every man
critically claiming it, while your altar is empty
of offerings to the last, and at the end of the day I rush
in fear your gate will be shut but to find yet there is time.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 82

Henry Victor          31.10.2012