Song Unsung

 

The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day.

 

I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument.

 

The time has not come true, the words have not been rightly set; only there is the agony of wishing in my heart.

 

The blossom has not opened; only the wind is sighing by.

 

I have not seen his face, nor have I listened to his voice; only I have heard his gentle footsteps from the road before my house.

 

The livelong day has passed in spreading his seat on the floor; but the lamp has not been lit and I cannot ask him into my house.

 

I live in the hope of meeting with him; but this meeting is not yet.

 


Death

O thou the last fulfilment of life, Death, my death, come and whisper to me!

 

Day after day I have kept watch for thee; for thee have I borne the joys and pangs of life.

All that I am, that I have, that I hope and all my love have ever flowed towards thee in depth of secrecy.

 

One final glance from thine eyes and my life will be ever thine own.

 

The flowers have been woven and the garland is ready for the bridegroom.

 

After the wedding the bride shall leave her home and meet her lord alone in the solitude of night.


Still Heart

 

When I give up the helm I know that the time has come for thee to take it.

 

What there is to do will be instantly done.


Vain is this struggle.

 

Then take away your hands and silently put up with your defeat, my heart, and think it your good fortune to sit perfectly still where you are placed.

 

These my lamps are blown out at every little puff of wind, and trying to light them I forget all else again and again.

 

But I shall be wise this time and wait in the dark, spreading my mat on the floor; and whenever it is thy pleasure, my lord, come silently and take thy seat here.


Sri Aurobindo on Tagore

Tagore has been a wayfarer towards the same goal as ours in his own way—that is the main thing, the exact stage of advance and putting of the steps are minor matters. His exact position as a poet or a prophet or anything else will be assigned by posterity and we need not be in haste to anticipate the final verdict. The immediate verdict after his departure or soon after it may very well be a rough one,—for this is a generation that seems to take a delight in trampling with an almost Nazi rudeness on the bodies of the ancestors, specially the immediate ancestors. I have read with an interested surprise that Napoleon was only a bustling and self-important nincompoop all whose great achievements were done by others, that Shakespeare was "no great things" and that most other great men were by no means so great as the stupid respect and reverence of past ignorant ages made them out to be! What chance has then Tagore? But these injustices of the moment do not endure—in the end a wise and fair estimate is formed and survives the changes of time.

 

Tagore, of course, belonged to an age which had faith in its ideas and whose very denials were creative affirmations. That makes an immense difference. Your strictures on his later development may or may not be correct, but this mixture even was the note of the day and it expressed a tangible hope of fusion into something new and true—therefore it could create. Now all that idealism has been smashed to pieces by the immense adverse event and everybody is busy exposing its weaknesses—but nobody knows what to put in its place. A mixture of scepticism and slogans, "Heil-Hitler" and the Fascist salute and Five-Year-Plan and the beating of everybody into one amorphous shape, a disabused denial of all ideals on one side and on the other a blind "shut-my-eyes and shut-everybody's-eyes" plunge into the bog in the hope of finding some firm foundation there, will not carry us very far. And what else is there? Until new spiritual values are discovered, no great enduring creation is possible. 


Tagore’s “Into that heaven...” read by Samuel Godfrey George

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5OVMrad5iQ&feature=related

 

Tagore’s own voice in Bengali

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kvTim1Kg_F8&feature=related


Life of Rabindranath Tagore 1861-1941

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=414170686302082136&hl=en#