DR PRITHWINDRA MUKHERJEE GROUP - 3
Poems by Sri Rabindranath Tagore all translated from original Bengali by Dr Prithwindra Mukherjee
3.Composed on board the Tames (25 October, 1890) on his return trip from Europe, while crossing the Red Sea ; Tagore recognises that originally the poem had been written in English by his friend Lokendranath Palit.
Modesty
I have surrendered all –
My heart, my life –
Only retaining modesty for myself.
Night and day with precaution
Watching my own self
Carefully I keep myself covert.
O my Friend, this transparent raiment
Taunts me incessantly,
I cannot wear it always :
With a slanting glance
Secretly You smile
And it drives me sick with shame.
When the west wind ruffles
A flap of my robe,
I cannot control it,
Athirst for rapture
My heart animates the limbs
Before I get suddenly aware.
When I feel suffocated
Within my four walls,
Undoing half of my clothing
I sit by the window,
In the pleasant breeze of twilight
To forget myself for a while.
Beams of the full moon
Come to faint
On these blossoms of youth,
My love-laden limbs
Conceal them with a smile
Under their veil of grace.
Playful the wind blows
On my face, my breast and my hair,
Perfuming the air with flowers :
When you appear
As though in a dream,
I can recall nothing more.
Stop, O Friend, now spare
This trifle, do not rob it
Let me keep this modesty for myself,
Remnant of everything else
Let this shame be
Capable of hiding it imperfectly.
Eyes replete with tears
Do not you grudge me,
I too have wept for nights;
I fail to explain why
Having offered everything
I attach all of it with shame :
Why do I conceal
This bit from you,
Slightly turning my face away ?
I am not at all diffident,
Nor even am I jocular,
I am not toying with you.
In this night of springtide
Enjoy the fragrance, enjoy the honey
Tenderly gazing at my face.
Call me with soft names,
Rock me on all sides,
Respecting only this stem.
Counting on it alone,
With such sweetness
I remain blooming for you,
In this seduction
My limbs are bathed with
A youthful grace :
Such a frolic with the wind
Through all hours night and day
A fair of vernal flowers.
Listen, O Friend, now listen :
Everything will be yours,
Spare only my modesty.
[Sonar Tari, “The Golden Bark”, 1893]
Impromptu
On my lap the lute had been tuned,
Varied melodies crowded my mind,
I had never imagined
That the string would sever.
Blow out the lamp today, I pray,
Close the door :
Cancelling the concert, disperse
O my heart.
I have not been able
To fulfil all that you wished :
Who knew that the string would break
Before the music was over.
I had hoped to pour out my mind
Flooding in ten directions (4) :
Blended with fragrance and joy
The full moon night would be fuller.
I had hoped you all would come
And sit all around,
You would bedeck after the music
My neck with garlands,
I would spend up all my speech
All my tales :
I had never imagined
That the string would sever.
Today onward, have mercy, all of you
Forget everything, return home :
Do not take me to task
For my interruption.
I want by this evening
In silence, all alone
Sleep on the floor
Fainted, mute.
I long for a peace without glory,
A serene darkness.
Much before all music could
The string severed.
[Chitra , “The Painted Woman”, 1895]
4. East, West, North, South, their intersections, the Zenith and the Nadir.
God, Forsaken
Inside God’s temple a veteran devotee
Was busy turning his beads night and day
When in the evening with dust-covered limbs
Therein entered a poor man weary and naked.
He uttered in plight : “I have no home,
Have pity and find me a corner here.”
Full of compunction, the devotee replied :
“Be off, impious, rid me of your presence.”
He accepted : “So I go !” And in no time
The beggar assumed the Divine’s form.
Sighing, the devotee gasped : “What a deceit, O Lord !”
The God said : “You have turned me out.
I move on throughout the world in disguise of the poor,
I feel at home when the homeless finds a shelter.”
[Chaitali , 1896]
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