He will go back with his errand done, leaving a dark shadow on my
morning; and in my desolate home only my forlorn self will remain as my
last offering to thee.
87.
In desperate hope I go and search for her in all the corners of my
room; I find her not.
My house is small and what once has gone from it can never be regained.
But infinite is thy mansion, my lord, and seeking her I have to come to
thy door.
I stand under the golden canopy of thine evening sky and I lift my
eager eyes to thy face.
I have come to the brink of eternity from which nothing can vanish—no
hope, no happiness, no vision of a face seen through tears.
Oh, dip my emptied life into that ocean, plunge it into the deepest
fullness. Let me for once feel that lost sweet touch in the allness of
the universe.
88.
Deity of the ruined temple! The broken strings of _Vina_ sing no more
your praise. The bells in the evening proclaim not your time of
worship. The air is still and silent about you.
In your desolate dwelling comes the vagrant spring breeze. It brings
the tidings of flowers—the flowers that for your worship are offered no
more.
Your worshipper of old wanders ever longing for favour still refused.
In the eventide, when fires and shadows mingle with the gloom of dust,
he wearily comes back to the ruined temple with hunger in his heart.
Many a festival day comes to you in silence, deity of the ruined
temple. Many a night of worship goes away with lamp unlit.
Many new images are built by masters of cunning art and carried to the
holy stream of oblivion when their time is come.
Only the deity of the ruined temple remains unworshipped in deathless
neglect.
89.
No more noisy, loud words from me—such is my master’s will. Henceforth
I deal in whispers. The speech of my heart will be carried on in
murmurings of a song.
Men hasten to the King’s market. All the buyers and sellers are there.
But I have my untimely leave in the middle of the day, in the thick of
work.
Let then the flowers come out in my garden, though it is not their
time; and let the midday bees strike up their lazy hum.
Full many an hour have I spent in the strife of the good and the evil,
but now it is the pleasure of my playmate of the empty days to draw my
heart on to him; and I know not why is this sudden call to what useless
inconsequence!
90.
On the day when death will knock at thy door what wilt thou offer to
him?
Oh, I will set before my guest the full vessel of my life—I will never
let him go with empty hands.
All the sweet vintage of all my autumn days and summer nights, all the
earnings and gleanings of my busy life will I place before him at the
close of my days when death will knock at my door.
91.
O thou the last fulfilment of life, Death, my death, come and whisper
to me!
Day after day I have kept watch for thee; for thee have I borne the
joys and pangs of life.
All that I am, that I have, that I hope and all my love have ever
flowed towards thee in depth of secrecy. One final glance from thine
eyes and my life will be ever thine own.
The flowers have been woven and the garland is ready for the
bridegroom. After the wedding the bride shall leave her home and meet
her lord alone in the solitude of night.
92.
I know that the day will come when my sight of this earth shall be
lost, and life will take its leave in silence, drawing the last curtain
over my eyes.
Yet stars will watch at night, and morning rise as before, and hours
heave like sea waves casting up pleasures and pains.
When I think of this end of my moments, the barrier of the moments
breaks and I see by the light of death thy world with its careless
treasures. Rare is its lowliest seat, rare is its meanest of lives.
Things that I longed for in vain and things that I got—let them pass.
Let me but truly possess the things that I ever spurned and overlooked.
93.
I have got my leave. Bid me farewell, my brothers! I bow to you all and
take my departure.
Here I give back the keys of my door—and I give up all claims to my
house. I only ask for last kind words from you.
We were neighbours for long, but I received more than I could give. Now
the day has dawned and the lamp that lit my dark corner is out. A
summons has come and I am ready for my journey.
94.
At this time of my parting, wish me good luck, my friends! The sky is
flushed with the dawn and my path lies beautiful.
Ask not what I have with me to take there. I start on my journey with
empty hands and expectant heart.
I shall put on my wedding garland. Mine is not the red-brown dress of
the traveller, and though there are dangers on the way I have no fear
in mind.
The evening star will come out when my voyage is done and the plaintive
notes of the twilight melodies be struck up from the King’s gateway.
95.
I was not aware of the moment when I first crossed the threshold of
this life.
What was the power that made me open out into this vast mystery like a
bud in the forest at midnight!
When in the morning I looked upon the light I felt in a moment that I
was no stranger in this world, that the inscrutable without name and
form had taken me in its arms in the form of my own mother.
Even so, in death the same unknown will appear as ever known to me. And
because I love this life, I know I shall love death as well.
The child cries out when from the right breast the mother takes it
away, in the very next moment to find in the left one its consolation.
96.
When I go from hence let this be my parting word, that what I have seen
is unsurpassable.
I have tasted of the hidden honey of this lotus that expands on the
ocean of light, and thus am I blessed—let this be my parting word.
In this playhouse of infinite forms I have had my play and here have I
caught sight of him that is formless.
My whole body and my limbs have thrilled with his touch who is beyond
touch; and if the end comes here, let it come—let this be my parting
word.
97.
When my play was with thee I never questioned who thou wert. I knew nor
shyness nor fear, my life was boisterous.
In the early morning thou wouldst call me from my sleep like my own
comrade and lead me running from glade to glade.
On those days I never cared to know the meaning of songs thou sangest
to me. Only my voice took up the tunes, and my heart danced in their
cadence.
Now, when the playtime is over, what is this sudden sight that is come
upon me? The world with eyes bent upon thy feet stands in awe with all
its silent stars.
98.
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.
99.
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.
100.
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.
101.
Ever in my life have I sought thee with my songs. It was they who led
me from door to door, and with them have I felt about me, searching and
touching my world.
It was my songs that taught me all the lessons I ever learnt; they
showed me secret paths, they brought before my sight many a star on the
horizon of my heart.
They guided me all the day long to the mysteries of the country of
pleasure and pain, and, at last, to what palace gate have they brought
me in the evening at the end of my journey?
102.
I boasted among men that I had known you. They see your pictures in all
works of mine. They come and ask me, “Who is he?” I know not how to
answer them. I say, “Indeed, I cannot tell.” They blame me and they go
away in scorn. And you sit there smiling.
I put my tales of you into lasting songs. The secret gushes out from my
heart. They come and ask me, “Tell me all your meanings.” I know not
how to answer them. I say, “Ah, who knows what they mean!” They smile
and go away in utter scorn. And you sit there smiling.
103.
In one salutation to thee, my God, let all my senses spread out and
touch this world at thy feet.
Like a rain-cloud of July hung low with its burden of unshed showers
let all my mind bend down at thy door in one salutation to thee.
Let all my songs gather together their diverse strains into a single
current and flow to a sea of silence in one salutation to thee.
Like a flock of homesick cranes flying night and day back to their
mountain nests let all my life take its voyage to its eternal home in
one salutation to thee.