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He came and sat by my side but I woke not.  What a cursed sleep

it was, O miserable me!

He came when the night was still; he had his harp in his hands,

and my dreams became resonant with its melodies.

Alas, why are my nights all thus lost?  Ah, why do I ever miss

his sight whose breath touches my sleep?

Light, oh where is the light?  Kindle it with the burning fire of


There is the lamp but never a flicker of a flame–is such thy

fate, my heart?  Ah, death were better by far for thee!

Misery knocks at thy door, and her message is that thy lord is

wakeful, and he calls thee to the love-tryst through the darkness

of night.

The sky is overcast with clouds and the rain is ceaseless.  I

know not what this is that stirs in me–I know not its meaning.

A moment’s flash of lightning drags down a deeper gloom on my

sight, and my heart gropes for the path to where the music of the

night calls me.

Light, oh where is the light!  Kindle it with the burning fire of

desire!  It thunders and the wind rushes screaming through the

void.  The night is black as a black stone.  Let not the hours

pass by in the dark.  Kindle the lamp of love with thy life.

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From: GITANJALI – ‘Song Offerings’



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