Page 24

Have you not heard his silent steps?  He comes, comes, ever

comes.

Every moment and every age, every day and every night he comes,

comes, ever comes.

Many a song have I sung in many a mood of mind, but all their

notes have always proclaimed, ‘He comes, comes, ever comes.’

In the fragrant days of sunny April through the forest path he

comes, comes, ever comes.

In the rainy gloom of July nights on the thundering chariot of

clouds he comes, comes, ever comes.

In sorrow after sorrow it is his steps that press upon my heart,

and it is the golden touch of his feet that makes my joy to

shine.

I know not from what distant time thou art ever coming nearer to

meet me.  Thy sun and stars can never keep thee hidden from me

for aye.

In many a morning and eve thy footsteps have been heard and thy

messenger has come within my heart and called me in secret.

I know not only why today my life is all astir, and a feeling of

tremulous joy is passing through my heart.

It is as if the time were come to wind up my work, and I feel in

the air a faint smell of thy sweet presence.

The night is nearly spent waiting for him in vain.  I fear lest

in the morning he suddenly come to my door when I have fallen

asleep wearied out.  Oh friends, leave the way open to him–

forbid him not.

If the sounds of his steps does not wake me, do not try to rouse

me, I pray.  I wish not to be called from my sleep by the

clamorous choir of birds, by the riot of wind at the festival of

morning light.  Let me sleep undisturbed even if my lord comes of

a sudden to my door.

Ah, my sleep, precious sleep, which only waits for his touch to

vanish.  Ah, my closed eyes that would open their lids only to

the light of his smile when he stands before me like a dream

emerging from darkness of sleep.

Let him appear before my sight as the first of all lights and all

forms.  The first thrill of joy to my awakened soul let it come

from his glance.  And let my return to myself be immediate return

to him.

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From: GITANJALI – ‘Song Offerings’

    By: RABINDRANATH TAGORE

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