|
 |
When
thou commandest me to sing
it seems that my heart would break with pride; and I look to thy face, and tears come to my eyes. All that is harsh and dissonant in my life melts into one sweet harmony---and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its flight across the sea. I know thou takest pleasure in my singing. I know that only as a singer I come before thy presence. |
I touch by the edge of the far-spreading
wing of my song
thy feet which I could never aspire
to reach.
Drunk with the joy of singing I
forget myself and call thee friend who art my lord.
I know not how thou singest, my
master! I ever listen in silent amazement.
The light of thy music illumines
the world.
The life breath of thy music runs
from sky to sky.
The holy stream of thy music breaks
through all stony obstacles and rushes on.
My heart longs to join in thy song,
but vainly struggles for a voice. I would speak,
but speech breaks not into song,
and I cry out baffled.
Ah, thou hast made my heart captive
in the endless meshes of thy music, my Master!
| Life
of my life, I shall ever try to keep my body pure,
knowing that thy living touch is upon all my limbs. I shall ever try to keep all untruths out from my thoughts, knowing that thou art that truth which has kindled the light of reason in my mind. I shall ever try to drive all evils away from my heart and keep my love in flower, knowing that thou hast thy seat in the inmost shrine of my heart. And it shall be my endeavour to reveal thee in my actions, knowing it is thy power gives me strength to act. |
 |
I ask for a moment's indulgence
to sit by thy side.
The works that I have in hand I
will finish afterwards.
Away from the sight of thy face
my heart knows no rest nor respite,
and my work becomes
an endless toil in a shoreless sea of toil.
Today the summer has come at my
window with its sighs and murmurs;
and the bees
are plying their minstrelsy at the court of the flowering grove.
Now it is time to sit quite, face
to face with thee,
and to sing dedication
of live in this silent and overflowing leisure.
 |
Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it droop and drop into the dust. I may not find a place in thy garland, but honour it with a touch of pain from thy hand and pluck it. I fear lest the day end before I am aware, and the time of offering go by. Though its colour be not deep and its smell be faint, use this flower in thy service and pluck it while there is time. My song has put off her adornments. She has no pride of dress and decoration. Ornaments would mar our union; they would come between thee and me; their jingling would drown thy whispers. My poet's vanity dies in shame before thy sight. O Master Poet, I have sat down at thy feet. Only let me make my life simple and straight, like a flute of reed for thee to fill with music. |
|
The child who is decked with prince's robes and who has jewelled chains round his neck loses all pleasure in his play; his dress hampers him at every step. In fear that it may be frayed, or stained with dust he keeps himself from the world, and is afraid even to move. Mother, it is no gain, thy bondage of finery, if it keeps one shut off from the healthful dust of the earth, if it rob one of the right of entrance to the great fair of common human life. |
 |
O Fool, try to carry thyself upon
thy own shoulders!
O beggar, to come beg at thy own
door!
Leave all thy burdens on his hands
who can bear all, and never look behind in regret.
Thy desire at once puts out the
light from the lamp it touches with its breath.
It is unholy---take not thy gifts
through its unclean hands.
Accept only what is offered by sacred
love.
Here is thy footstool and there rest
thy feet
where live the
poorest, and lowliest, and lost.
When I try to bow to thee, my obeisance
cannot reach
down to the depth
where thy feet rest among the poorest, and lowliest, and lost.
Pride can never approach to where
thou walkest in the clothes of
the humble among
the poorest, and lowliest, and lost.
My heart can never find its way
to where thou keepest company
with the companionless
among the poorest, the lowliest, and the lost.
Leave this chanting and singing and telling of beads!
Whom dost thou worship in this lonely
dark corner of a temple with doors all shut?
Open thine eyes and see thy God
is not before thee!
He is there where the tiller is tilling the hard ground and where the pathmaker
is breaking stones.
He is with them in sun and in shower,
and his garment is covered with dust.
Put of thy holy mantle and even like him come down on the dusty soil!
Deliverance? Where is this deliverance
to be found?
Our Master himself has joyfully
taken upon him the bonds of creation;
he is bound with us all for ever.
Come out of thy meditations and leave aside thy flowers and incense!
What harm is there if thy clothes
become tattered and stained?
Meet him and stand by him in toil
and in sweat of thy brow.
|
I came out on the chariot of the first gleam of light, and pursued my voyage through the wild rnesses of worlds leaving my track on many a star and planet. It is the most distant course that comes nearest to thyself, and that training is the most intricate which leads to the utter simplicity of a tune. The traveller has to knock at every alien door to come to his own, and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end. My eyes strayed far and wide before I shut them and said `Here art thou!' The question and the cry `Oh, where?' melt into tears of a thousand streams and deluge the world with the flood of the assurance `I am!' |
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.
My desires are many and my cry is
pitiful, but ever didst thou save me by hard refusals;
and this strong
mercy has been wrought into my life through and through.
Day by day thou art making me worthy
of the simple, great gifts that thou gavest to me unasked---
this sky and
the light, this body and the life and the mind---saving me from perils
of overmuch desire.
There are times when I languidly
linger and times when I awaken and
hurry in search
of my goal; but cruelly thou hidest thyself from before me.
Day by day thou art making me worthy
of thy full acceptance by
refusing me ever
and anon, saving me from perils of weak, uncertain desire.
 |
I am here
to sing thee songs.
In this hall of thine I have a corner seat. In thy world I have no work to do; my useless life can only break out in tunes without a purpose. When the hour strikes for thy silent worship at the dark temple of midnight, command me, my master, to stand before thee to sing. When in the morning air the golden harp is tuned, honour me, commanding my presence. |
I
have had my invitation to this world's festival,
and thus my life has been blessed. My eyes have seen and my ears have heard. It was my part at this feast to play upon my instrument, and I have done all I could. Now, I ask, has the time come at last when I may go in and see thy face and offer thee my silent salutation? |
