Tuesday, January 24, 2012


O Gitanjali, the great Master’s creation!
O Gitanjali, the holy prayer,
Of the Master, of every poet!
Thy verse is holy, For
It sings not hymns of praise
To the hollow walls
Or stones without life,
Those barricades of mind
Fixed in the most spiteful shrines!

Thine is a prayer to the only One,
Oneness of being,
Of life and death,
Of light and darkness,
Of joy and pain,
Of silence and noise!

Thou seem to preach :
Darkness, the most wonderful sight;
Silence, the sweetest melody;
For, thy Master hath learned
The most blissful song,
The song of the poet –
Of melancholy and pain!
Thy master knows
The joy of living,
“The embrace of freedom-
In a thousand bonds of delight”
                            And yet oft he quoth                           
The joy of dying is nothing less!

Where art thou, Gitanjali,
I sing this prayer
In the direst need!                             
The need of the times,
The blood of brethren often spilt
For, the gleam of riches
Blind their eyes;
Nature’s become but a
Havoc spot, in silent tears
Of a glorious past!

Impart thy lessons, Gitanjali,
Of love and service,
Ardent devotion, and
The blessed chapters of supreme faith!

The Master’s cloak of dust
Is lost in the labyrinth of time,
But You know no death
O Gitanjali, the eternal one!
Thy Master breathes ever anew
In the death of each and every second,
Through You he lives forever more
In the depths of boundless space and incessant time!

Picture courtesy: Internet

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