gitanjali

THAT I should make much of myself
and turn it on all sides, thus casting
coloured shadows on thy radiance
such is thy maya

Thou settest a barrier in thine own
being and then tallest thy severed self
in myriad notes. This thy
self-separation has taken body in me.

The poignant song is echoed
through all the sky in many-coloured
tears and smiles, alarms and hopes;
waves rise up and sink again, dreams
break and form. In me is thy own
defeat of self.

This screen that thou hast raised
Is painted with innumerable figures
With the brush of the night and the
day. Behind it thy seat is woven in
wondrous mysteries of curves, casting
away all barren lines of straightness.

The great pageant of thee and me
Has overspread the sky. With the tune
of thee and me all the air is vibrant,
and all ages pass with the hiding and
seeking of thee and me.