Parched By Pain

My heart is scorched, parched by pain

of many days; for your grace, the rain
is held back from this horizon fiercely naked
not even with the thinnest cover of a soft cloud.

I see not the vaguest hint of a distant cool shower;

so please, if it is your will and your wish,
send your angry storm, dark with death and lashes
of lightning, startling thoroughly the sky of my soul.

But call back this pervading silent heat, stagnant

and zealously cruel, burning my heart with dire despair
as on the day of my father’s wrath; so let the cloud
of grace bend low like the tearful look of my mother.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 40

Henry Victor          01.01.2013

Shadow of Death

My death, your servant, is knocking at my door

after crossing the deep sea to bring your call to my home!
Now the night is pitch dark and my heart is full of fear
yet, I will light the lamp and open my gate to honour him!

He is your messenger who stands at my door;

I will bow to him placing at his feet the treasures in my heart
for he will come back to you with his mission soon over
leaving only myself, my last offering to you in my home.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 86

Henry Victor          18.12.2012

Wake Up

Laziness is in your heart and sleep
fills your eyes knowing not the flower
is reigning in splendour among thorns!

Wake up my soul, waste not the time
any more, for at the end of the stony path
in the country of virgin solitude is my friend
sitting alone; disappoint him not!

The sky may pant and tremble with the heat
of the midday sun burning sand, spreading
its mantle of thirst, but you have joy in heart
in the depth, and at your footstep the harp
on your road will break into sweet music of pain!

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 55

Henry Victor          12.12.2012

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

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

Self-Imprisonment

Myself, my name, is weeping in the dungeon
I have enclosed him with my busy building
this wall around that goes up into the sky day by day
where I lose sight of my being in its own dark shadow.

Now I take pride in this great wall that I plaster
with sand and dust lest a least hole should be left
in my name; despite all the care I take I lose
sight of my being, forgetting my true name.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 29

Henry Victor          02.10.2012