My Singing

When you command me to sing
it seems that my heart would break
with the weight of pride and I look
to your face and tears come to my eyes.

All that is harsh and dissonant in my life
then melts into one sweet harmony
and my adoration spreads wings
like a glad bird on its flight across the sea.

I know you take pleasure in my singing
and I know that only as a singer I come
before your presence and my song
with far spreading wing touch your feet.

For I could never aspire to reach heights
higher than this and drunk with the joy
of singing I forget myself and call
you, my Lord, my friend!

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 02

Henry Victor 07.01.2013