The Song

I know not how you sing, my master.

The light of your music illumines the world

and the life breath of your music runs from sky
to sky with its holy stream breaking through stony
obstacles and rushes endlessly from heart to heart.

I forever listen in silent amazement as my heart

longs to join in your song, but vainly my soul
struggles for a voice, and then I try to speak
but speech breaks not into song, making me cry.

But you have made my heart captive

in meshes of your music, my master.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 03

Henry Victor          07.01.2013

 

Invite Me

I have had my invitation to this world’s

festival, and my life has been blessed
and my eyes have seen
and my ears have heard.

At this feast my part was to play
my instrument and I have done my best.
Now I ask you, at last, that I may go in to see
your face and offer you my silent salutation.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 16

Henry Victor          05.01.2013

 

Perfume of Promise

To wait and watch at the wayside

where shadow chases light is my delight
and the rain comes down, pours
in the wake of the summer.

With tidings messengers from unknown
skies greet me and speed along the road
as my heart within is secretly glad
and the breath of the passing breeze is sweet.

Dawn to dusk I sit here before my door
and I know that suddenly the blissful moment
will arrive and until then I smile and sing alone
breathing air filled with the perfume of promise.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 44

 
Henry Victor          01.01.2013

Many Joys

I pause to pick and thread my last song
harvesting joy scattered in your world, mixing
mingling with joy that makes the earth flow
over in the riotous excess of the grass.

And with joy that sets the twin brothers,
life and death, dancing over the wide world
and joy that sweeps in with the tempest
shaking and waking all life with laughter.

And with joy that sits still with its tears
on the open red lotus of pain,
and finally that joy that throws everything
it has on the dust singing a song of silence.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 58

Henry Victor          14.12.2012

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

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

Unbroken Perfection

When the creation was new and the stars
shone their first light, the splendour, gods
held their assembly in the sky, to sing: ‘Oh
the picture-perfection, what flawless joy!’

But suddenly one cried: ‘Somewhere
there is a break in the chain of light
and one of the stars
surely, has been lost!'

Now the golden string of the stars’ harp
snapped and their song stopped, in dismay
the stars cried: ‘Yes, that the lost star
was the best, the glory of all heavens!'

From that day the search for the best
is unceasing and the cry goes on from one
to the other that in the lost star
the world has lost its joy.

Only in the deepest perception, silence
of night the stars smile and whisper
among themselves: ‘Vain is this seeking
there is, always, the unbroken perfection!’

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 78

Henry Victor          19.10.2012