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Tagore's Geetanjali

  1. Geetanjali 1
  2. Geetanjali 2
  3. Geetanjali 3
  4. Geetanjali 4
  5. Geetanjali 5
  6. Geetanjali 6
  7. Geetanjali 7
  8. Geetanjali 8
  9. Geetanjali 9
  10. Geetanjali 10
  11. Geetanjali 11
  12. Geetanjali 12
  13. Geetanjali 13
  14. Geetanjali 14
  15. Geetanjali 15
  16. Geetanjali 16
  17. Geetanjali 17
  18. Geetanjali 18
     
  19. Geetanjali 19
  20. Geetanjali 20
  21. Geetanjali 21
  22. Geetanjali 22
  23. Geetanjali 23
  24. Geetanjali 24
  25. Geetanjali 25
  26. Geetanjali 26
  27. Geetanjali 27
  28. Geetanjali 28
  29. Geetanjali 29
  30. Geetanjali 30
  31. Geetanjali 31
  32. Geetanjali 32
  33. Geetanjali 33
  34. Geetanjali 34
  35. Geetanjali 35
  36. Osho on Tagore
  37. Yeat on Gitanjali


 

 

 

 
Song 100

I will deck thee with trophies, garlands of my defeat.
It is never in my power to escape unconquered.

I surely know my pride will go to the wall, my life will burst its bonds in exceeding pain, and my empty heart will sob out in music like a hollow reed, and the stone will melt in tears.

I surely know the hundred petals of a lotus will not remain closed for ever
and the secret recess of its honey will be bared.

From the blue sky an eye shall gaze upon me and summon me in silence. Nothing will be left for me, nothing whatever,
and utter death shall I receive at thy feet.

Song 101

When I give up the helm I know that the time has come for thee to take it. What there is to do will be instantly done. Vain is this struggle.

Then take away your hands and silently put up with your defeat, my heart, and think it your good fortune to sit perfectly still where you are placed.

These my lamps are blown out at every little puff of wind, and trying to light them I forget all else again and again.

But I shall be wise this time and wait in the dark, spreading my mat on the floor; and whenever it is thy pleasure, my lord, come silently and take thy seat here.

Song 102

I dive down into the depth of the ocean of forms, hoping to gain the perfect pearl of the formless.

No more sailing from harbour to harbour with this my weather-beaten boat. The days are long passed when my sport was to be tossed on waves.

And now I am eager to die into the deathless.

Into the audience hall by the fathomless abyss where swells up the music of toneless strings I shall take this harp of my life.

I shall tune it to the notes of forever, and when it has sobbed out its last utterance, lay down my silent harp at the feet of the silent.