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
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,
I am here to sing thee songs. In this hall of thine I have a
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.
From: GITANJALI – ‘Song Offerings’
Tagore Short Poems
Tagore Stray Birds