I will place at your feet
awards and garlands of all my defeat
that I had no power to evade.
My pride too will not escape my heart
as my life bursts into exceeding pain
with an empty soul sobbing music as a hollow
reed capable of melting even a stone to tears.
I know, for certain, the tens of petals
of a lotus will not remain forever closed
and the secret respite from its honey
at that moment, for me will be unclosed.
From the void blue sky an eye shall gaze
on me and summon me in silence
leaving nothing for me, nothing whatsoever
and utter death I shall receive at your feet.
Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 98
Henry Victor 04.12.2012
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