THE LAST POEM Rabindranath Tagore Can you hear the sounds of the journey of time? Its chariot always in a flight Raises heartbeats in the skies And birth-pangs of stars In the darkness of space Crushed by its wheels. My friend! I have been caught in the net Cast by that flying time It has made me its mate In its intrepid journey And taken me in its speeding chariot Far away from you. To reach the summit of this morning I seem to have left behind many deaths My past names seem to stream In the strong wind Born of the chariots speed. There is no way to turn back; If you see me from afar You will not recognize me my friend, Farewell! If in your lazy hours without any work The winds of springtime Brings back the sighs from the past As the cries of shedding spring flowers Fill the skies Please see and search If in a corner of your heart You can find any remnants of my past; In the evening hours of fading memories It may shed some light Or take some nameless form As if in a dream. Yet it is not a dream It is my truth of truths It is deathless It is my love. Changeless and eternal I leave it as my offering to you In the ever changing flow of time Let me drift. My friend, farewell! You have not sustained any loss. If you have created an immortal image Out of my mortal frame May you devote your self In the worship of that idol As the recreation of your remaining days Let your offerings not be mired By the touch of my earthly passion. The plate that you will arrange with utmost care For the feast of your mind I will not mix it with anything That does not endure And is wet with my tears. Now you will perhaps create Some dreamy creation out of my memories Neither shall I feel its weight Nor will you feel obliged. My friend, farewell! Do not mourn for me, You have your work, I have my world. My vessel has not become empty To fill it is my mission. I shall be pleased If anybody keeps waiting Anxiously for me. But now I shall offer myself to him Who can brighten the darkness with light And see me as I am Transcending what is good or bad. Whatever I gave you It is now your absolute possession. What I have to give now Are the hourly offerings from my heart. You are incomparable, you are rich! Whatever I gave you It was but your gift You made me so much indebted As much as you took. My friend, farewell! ....Asira
Posted on: Thu, 05 Dec 2013 03:12:05 +0000