Waiting

I spent the whole night waiting for him in vain

and I fear that in the morning he may suddenly
appear at my door when I, tired, have fallen asleep!

Oh friends, leave the way open and stop him not.

If the sounds of his steps do not wake me, please

do not wake me for I wish not to be called
from my slumber by a clamorous choir of birds
or by the rioting wind at the festival of dawn light.

Undisturbed, let me sleep even if my Lord suddenly

comes to my door, for my sleep is precious but waiting
for his touch, my closed eyes open their lids to light
in his smile as he stands like a dream in a dark night.

Let him appear before my sight as the first light

and the first form; let him, with his glance, be the first
thrill of joy to my awakened soul, and let my return
to self also be the immediate return to him.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 47

Henry Victor          31.12.2012