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The Gardener, by Rabindranath Tagore.
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Beauty and love infuse these poems so, it's never clear if it's a person or the Divine they are addressed to, or a gentle land that has her feet in ocean and her head in lap of the tallest, greatest snow-covered ranges of earth, with great rivers wrapping it as deftly as a Queenly Goddess covered in silks.
Many of these seem familiar, some more than others.
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This one seems familiar, perhaps it's one from those heard since long.
"You are the evening cloud floating in the sky of my dreams.
"I paint you and fashion you ever with my love longings.
"You are my own, my own, Dweller in my endless dreams!
"Your feet are rosy-red with the glow of my heart's desire,
"Gleaner of my sunset songs!
"Your lips are bitter-sweet with the taste of my wine of pain.
"You are my own, my own,
"Dweller in my lonesome dreams!
"With the shadow of my passion have I darkened your eyes,
"Haunter of the depth of my gaze!
"I have caught you and wrapt you, my love, in the net of my music.
"You are my own, my own,
"Dweller in my deathless dreams!"
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"Why do you put me to shame with a look?
"I have not come as a beggar.
"Only for a passing hour I stood at the end of your courtyard outside the garden hedge.
Why do you put me to shame with a look?
"Not a rose did I gather from your garden, not a fruit did I pluck.
"I humbly took my shelter under the wayside shade where every strange traveller may stand.
"Not a rose did I pluck.
"Yes, my feet were tired, and the shower of rain come down.
"The winds cried out among the swaying bamboo branches.
"The clouds ran across the sky as though in the flight from defeat.
"My feet were tired.
"I know not what you thought of me or for whom you were waiting at your door.
"Flashes of lightning dazzled your watching eyes.
"How could I know that you could see me where I stood in the dark?
"I know not what you thought of me.
"The day is ended, and the rain has ceased for a moment.
"I leave the shadow of the tree at the end of your garden and this seat on the grass.
"It has darkened; shut your door; I go my way.
"The day is ended.
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"The lone night lies along your path, the dawn sleeps behind the shadowy hills.
"The stars hold their breath counting the hours, the feeble moon swims the deep night.
"Bird, O my bird, listen to me, do not close your wings.
"There is no hope, no fear for you.
"There is no word, no whisper, no cry.
"There is no home, no bed for rest.
"There is only your own pair of wings and the pathless sky.
"Bird, O my bird, listen to me, do not close your wings.
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"I hunt for the golden stag.
"You may smile, my friends, but I pursue the vision that eludes me.
"I run across hills and dales, I wander through nameless lands, because I am hunting for the golden stag.
"You come and buy in the market and go back to your homes laden with goods, but the spell of the homeless winds has touched me
"I know not when and where.
"I have no care in my heart; all my belongings I have left far behind me. I run across hills and dales,
"I wander through nameless lands— because I am hunting for the golden stag.
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"With days of hard travail I raised a temple. It had no doors or windows, its walls were thickly built with massive stones.
"I forgot all else, I shunned all the world, I gazed in rapt contemplation at the image I had set upon the altar.
"It was always night inside, and lit by the lamps of perfumed oil.
"The ceaseless smoke of incense wound my heart in its heavy coils.
"Sleepless, I carved on the walls fantastic figures in mazy bewildering lines—winged horses, flowers with human faces, women with limbs like serpents.
"No passage was left anywhere through which could enter the song of birds, the murmur of leaves or hum of the busy village.
"The only sound that echoed in its dark dome was that of incantations which I chanted.
"My mind became keen and still like a pointed flame, my senses swooned in ecstasy.
"I knew not how time passed till the thunderstone had struck the temple, and a pain stung me through the heart.
"The lamp looked pale and ashamed; the carvings on the walls, like chained dreams, stared meaningless in the light as they would fain hide themselves.
"I looked at the image on the altar.
"I saw it smiling and alive with the living touch of God.
"The night I had imprisoned had spread its wings and vanished.
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""Infinite wealth is not yours, my patient and dusky mother dust!
You toil to fill the mouths of your children, but food is scarce.
The gift of gladness that you have for us is never perfect.
The toys that you make for your children are fragile.
You cannot satisfy all our hungry hopes, but should I desert you for that?
Your smile which is shadowed with pain is sweet to my eyes.
Your love which knows not fulfilment is dear to my heart.
From your breast you have fed us with life but not immortality, that is why your eyes are ever wakeful.
For ages you are working with colour and song, yet your heaven is not built, but only its sad suggestion.
Over your creations of beauty there is the mist of tears.
I will pour my songs into your mute heart, and my love into your love.
I will worship you with labour.
I have seen your tender face and
I love your mournful dust, Mother Earth."
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"In the world's audience hall, the simple blade of grass sits on the same carpet with the sunbeam and the stars of midnight.
Thus my songs share their seats in the heart of the world with the music of the clouds and forests.
But, you man of riches, your wealth has no part in the simple grandeur of the sun's glad gold and the mellow gleam of the musing moon.
The blessing of all-embracing sky is not shed upon it.
And when death appears, it pales and withers and crumbles into dust."
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"At midnight the would-be ascetic announced:
""This is the time to give up my home and seek for God.
"Ah, who has held me so long in delusion here?"
"God whispered, "I," but the ears of the man were stopped.
"With a baby asleep at her breast lay his wife, peacefully sleeping on one side of the bed.
"The man said,
""Who are ye that have fooled me so long?"
"The voice said again,
""They are God," but he heard it not.
"The baby cried out in its dream, nestling close to its mother.
"God commanded,
"Stop, fool, leave not thy home," but still he heard not.
"God sighed and complained,
"Why does my servant wander to seek me, forsaking me?""
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"With a glance of your eyes you could plunder all the wealth of songs struck from poets' harps, fair woman!
"But for their praises you have no ear, therefore I come to praise you.
"You could humble at your feet the proudest heads in the world.
"But it is your loved ones, unknown to fame, whom you choose to worship, therefore I worship you.
"The perfection of your arms would add glory to kingly splendour with their touch. "But you use them to sweep away the dust, and to make clean your humble home, therefore I am filled with awe."
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July 16, 2021 - July 18, 2021.
Purchased July 17, 2021.
Kindle Edition, 162 pages
Published May 17th 2012 (first published 1913)
Original Title মালঞ্চ
ASIN:- B0084AMEPM
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