If I do not meet you in this life
let me then forever feel that missing
forgetting not the pain of not seeing
you and carry this sorrow
both in my dreams and in wakeful hours.
As I pass my days in markets with profits
weighing me down let me count my gain
nil if I had missed you and carry this misery
the sorrow of missing you
both in my dreams and in wakeful hours.
When I sit by the roadside, tired and panting
and spread my bed to rest, help me keep in mind
the journey is long until I meet you
and to miss you is agony, a sorrow I must carry
both in my dreams and in my wakeful hours.
When my home has been decorated and the flute
sound and laughter are loud, let me feel my failure
to invite you into my house, and without you
there is only emptiness, a sting I must carry
both in my dreams and in my wakeful hours.
Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 79
Henry Victor 08.12.2012
Since I know you
only as my God and not
as my own to come closer
I stand apart from you.
Since I know you
only as my father and not
as my friend to grasp your hand
I bow at your feet.
I stand not where you walk
to own you as my own
by clasping your hand, in heart
take you as my comrade.
You are indeed my Brother
amongst my brothers but I pay
no attention to them, nor do I share
my possessions, profits with them.
In pleasure and in pain of men
and women I stand apart reluctant
to give my life thus refusing to plunge
into your being, the great waters of life.
Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 77
Henry Victor 07.12.2012
Your gifts to humans fulfil all our needs
and return to you, the source, but un-lessened!
The river completes his daily grind
hastening through hamlets and fields
ceaselessly streaming, winding in the end
towards the washing of your feet.
The flowers fail not to sweeten the air
with fragrant perfume, returning to offer
you the last service with a worship
that has never impoverished the world.
Likewise the words of this poet receive
different meanings from men and women
chanting them leaving the final sense
with you dwelling in the cave of my heart.
Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 75
Henry Victor 06.12.2012
The day is no more and the shade
is on the face of the earth with time to go
to the stream to fill my pitcher, for the evening
air is zealous with the sad music of the water.
It calls me into the dusk
with no passer-by in the lonely
lane winding through the twilight
and the ripples are rampant in the river.
I know not if I shall come back home
and I know not whom, by chance, I shall meet
but at the fording in a little boat
the unknown man plays his lute.
Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 74
Henry Victor 05.12.2012
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
When playing with you
I never questioned who you were
and had neither shyness nor fear
while my life was also so lively.
Then in early mornings you would call
me from my sleep as if you were my own
comrade and lead me running
from one glade to another glade.
On those days I never cared to know
the meaning of songs you sang for me
but my voice picked up the tunes
while my heart danced to their beat.
Now with the playtime over
a sudden sight has come on me.
The world with eyes bent to your feet
stands in awe with all her silent stars!
Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 97
Henry Victor 03.12.2012
As I, this blessed one, take leave to continue
my journey let these be my parting words:
I have thus far seen nothing
but the unsurpassable,
and tasted the hidden honey of this lotus
expanding in the ocean of light.
And in this playhouse of forms
so infinite, I have had my play
and I have caught sight of him
that is unendingly formless.
My whole body and my limbs
are thrilled, already, with his touch
who is beyond touch, and if the end
already has come, let it so be.
Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 96
Henry Victor 03.12.2012
