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.  

Remembering always that your touch
Is on my limbs night and day,
Lord of my life, I will keep pure
This body of mine.
You reign in my mind, O supreme knowledge,
This I always recall in every meditation
With every thought I will make every effort
To renounce and keep away every falsehood.

Your immovable throne is in my heart
I will remember that and suppress
All that is harsh, all inauspicious –
I’ll keep love pure and ever abloom.
Knowing that your strength is in all my actions,
In every action it is you I will express.

I am here to sing thee songs. In this hall of thine I have a corner seat.

In thy world I have no work to do; my useless life can only break out in tunes without a purpose.
When the hour strikes for thy silent worship at the dark temple of midnight, command me, my master, to stand before thee to sing.
When in the morning air the golden harp is tuned, honour me, commanding my presence.

I only remain here
To sing songs of you,
In this hall of your universe
Give me a little space.
In the midst of your world
I haven’t set to any work, my lord,
It only resounds to melody
This useless life of mine.

At night in the silent temple,
When you are worshipped,
Then, O master,
Command me to sing.
When at dawn the veena plays
Its golden melody across the sky,
Let me not be far from you
Allow me this honour.

I am only waiting for love to give myself up at last into his hands. That is why it is so late and why I have been guilty of such omissions.

They come with their laws and their codes to bind me fast; but I evade them ever, for I am only waiting for love to give myself up at last into his hands.
People blame me and call me heedless; I doubt not they are right in their blame.
The market day is over and work is all done for the busy. Those who came to call me in vain have gone back in anger. I am only waiting for love to give myself up at last into his hands.

I only wait to give myself
Into the hands of love;
It’s very late now,
I’m at fault for many faults.
With binding-cords of rules and laws
They come to snare me, but I move away,
Whatever punishment I get for that
I’ll take and be content.
I only wait to give myself
Into the hands of love.

People censure me,
That censure is not untrue,
I’ll take all the censure upon my head
And remain beneath them all.
The day draws to an end,
The fair of buying and selling breaks up,
Those who came to call me
They go back in anger.
I only wait to give myself
Into the hands of love.

He came and sat by my side but I woke not. What a cursed sleep it was, O miserable me!

He came when the night was still; he had his harp in his hands, and my dreams became resonant with its melodies.
Alas, why are my nights all thus lost? Ah, why do I ever miss his sight whose breath touches my sleep?

Oh he came and sat by me
And still I didn’t wake.
What a sleep had hold of you,
Unlucky woman.
He came on a silent night,
His veena was in his hands,
In the midst of dreams he played
His deep melodies.

I wake to find the south wind
Maddening
Its fragrance floats all around
Filling the dark.
Why does my night pass
Having him near, yet not having him,
Why has my chest never felt
The touch of his garland.

He whom I enclose with my name is weeping in this dungeon. I am ever busy building this wall all around; and as this wall goes up into the sky day by day I lose sight of my true being in its dark shadow.

I take pride in this great wall, and I plaster it with dust and sand lest a least hole should be left in this name; and for all the care I take I lose sight of my true being.

He whom I keep covered with my name
Is dying in the prison of this name.
The more I forget everything and try
Night and day to set this name on the sky,
The more in the darkness of my name
I lose my true me.

Gathering layer of dust ’pon dust
I build my name up high.
For fear of a crack somewhere
My heart doesn’t rest at all,
The more care I take of this lie
The more I lose me.

Excerpted with permission from Gitanjali: A New Translation, Rabindranath Tagore, translated from the Bengali by Prasenjit Gupta, Parabaas.