I pray to you my love;
Free these orphaned words of mine.
They come to your world,
innocent and blind
with no hand to hold.
Protect them, my Goddess;
From the viles of reason.
Let them not pursue ideals,
truths and praise,
for their weak feet will tire soon.
Bind them not, my Goddess;
In harsh fetters of grammar.
Let them not be stifled with craft,
genius and order,
for they have no discipline.
Free them, my Love;
Set them on a song, light and gentle.
Let them play in the sand,
dust and the streets,
for they can amount to nothing more.
Bless them, my Love;
So that they may sing
of your dark face like the mango leaf
your smile like the jasmine
for that will be their salvation.
Let them go no further My Love,
but just sing of you,
your home by the river under the mango tree
Of evenings, gilded sunsets,
of birds returning home
then...
fade gently into your night.
1 comment:
Really like this poem : all of my favourite images-sunset, mango tree, birds... :)Very Tagore-esque.
I especially like the last few lines...
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