1.
Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou
emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.
This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and
hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.
At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in
joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.
Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine.
Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.
2.
When thou commandest me to sing it seems that my heart would break with
pride; and I look to thy face, and tears come to my eyes.
All that is harsh and dissonant in my life melts into one sweet
harmony—and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its flight
across the sea.
I know thou takest pleasure in my singing. I know that only as a singer
I come before thy presence.
I touch by the edge of the far-spreading wing of my song thy feet which
I could never aspire to reach.
Drunk with the joy of singing I forget myself and call thee friend who
art my lord.
3.
I know not how thou singest, my master! I ever listen in silent
amazement.
The light of thy music illumines the world. The life breath of thy
music runs from sky to sky. The holy stream of thy music breaks through
all stony obstacles and rushes on.
My heart longs to join in thy song, but vainly struggles for a voice. I
would speak, but speech breaks not into song, and I cry out baffled.
Ah, thou hast made my heart captive in the endless meshes of thy music,
my master!
4.
Life of my life, I shall ever try to keep my body pure, knowing that
thy living touch is upon all my limbs.
I shall ever try to keep all untruths out from my thoughts, knowing
that thou art that truth which has kindled the light of reason in my
mind.
I shall ever try to drive all evils away from my heart and keep my love
in flower, knowing that thou hast thy seat in the inmost shrine of my
heart.
And it shall be my endeavour to reveal thee in my actions, knowing it
is thy power gives me strength to act.
5.
I ask for a moment’s indulgence to sit by thy side. The works that I
have in hand I will finish afterwards.
Away from the sight of thy face my heart knows no rest nor respite, and
my work becomes an endless toil in a shoreless sea of toil.
Today the summer has come at my window with its sighs and murmurs; and
the bees are plying their minstrelsy at the court of the flowering
grove.
Now it is time to sit quite, face to face with thee, and to sing
dedication of life in this silent and overflowing leisure.
6.
Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it droop
and drop into the dust.
I may not find a place in thy garland, but honour it with a touch of
pain from thy hand and pluck it. I fear lest the day end before I am
aware, and the time of offering go by.
Though its colour be not deep and its smell be faint, use this flower
in thy service and pluck it while there is time.
7.
My song has put off her adornments. She has no pride of dress and
decoration. Ornaments would mar our union; they would come between thee
and me; their jingling would drown thy whispers.
My poet’s vanity dies in shame before thy sight. O master poet, I have
sat down at thy feet. Only let me make my life simple and straight,
like a flute of reed for thee to fill with music.
8.
The child who is decked with prince’s robes and who has jewelled chains
round his neck loses all pleasure in his play; his dress hampers him at
every step.
In fear that it may be frayed, or stained with dust he keeps himself
from the world, and is afraid even to move.
Mother, it is no gain, thy bondage of finery, if it keep one shut off
from the healthful dust of the earth, if it rob one of the right of
entrance to the great fair of common human life.
9.
O Fool, try to carry thyself upon thy own shoulders! O beggar, to come
beg at thy own door!
Leave all thy burdens on his hands who can bear all, and never look
behind in regret.
Thy desire at once puts out the light from the lamp it touches with its
breath. It is unholy—take not thy gifts through its unclean hands.
Accept only what is offered by sacred love.
10.
Here is thy footstool and there rest thy feet where live the poorest,
and lowliest, and lost.
When I try to bow to thee, my obeisance cannot reach down to the depth
where thy feet rest among the poorest, and lowliest, and lost.
Pride can never approach to where thou walkest in the clothes of the
humble among the poorest, and lowliest, and lost.
My heart can never find its way to where thou keepest company with the
companionless among the poorest, the lowliest, and the lost.
11.
Leave this chanting and singing and telling of beads! Whom dost thou
worship in this lonely dark corner of a temple with doors all shut?
Open thine eyes and see thy God is not before thee!
He is there where the tiller is tilling the hard ground and where the
pathmaker is breaking stones. He is with them in sun and in shower, and
his garment is covered with dust. Put of thy holy mantle and even like
him come down on the dusty soil!
Deliverance? Where is this deliverance to be found? Our master himself
has joyfully taken upon him the bonds of creation; he is bound with us
all for ever.
Come out of thy meditations and leave aside thy flowers and incense!
What harm is there if thy clothes become tattered and stained? Meet him
and stand by him in toil and in sweat of thy brow.
12.
The time that my journey takes is long and the way of it long.
I came out on the chariot of the first gleam of light, and pursued my
voyage through the wildernesses of worlds leaving my track on many a
star and planet.
It is the most distant course that comes nearest to thyself, and that
training is the most intricate which leads to the utter simplicity of a
tune.
The traveller has to knock at every alien door to come to his own, and
one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost
shrine at the end.
My eyes strayed far and wide before I shut them and said “Here art
thou!”
The question and the cry “Oh, where?” melt into tears of a thousand
streams and deluge the world with the flood of the assurance “I am!”
13.
The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day.