The Gardener Rabindranath Tagore

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THE GARDENER

MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
LONDON BOMBAY. CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK. BOSTON • CHICAGO
DALLAS. SAN FRANCISCO
THE RIACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO

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THE GARDENER
BY
RABINDRANATH TAGORE
TRANSLATED BY THE AUTHOR FROM
THE ORIGINAL BENGALI
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
1913

CO717jGHI TO W. B. YEATS

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PREFACE Most of the lyrics of love and life, the translations of which from Bengali are published in this book, were written much earlier than the series of religious poems contained in the book named Gitanjali. The translations are not always literal—the originals being sometimes abridged and sometimes paraphrased. RABINDRANATH TAGORE.

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1 Servant HAVE mercy upon your servant, my queen! Queen The assembly is over and my servants are all gone. Why do you come at this late hour ? Servant When you have finished with others, that is my time. I come to ask what remains for your last servant to do. Queen What can you expect when it is too late ? E 1 B

2
THE GARDENER
Servant
Make me the gardener of your
flower garden.
Queen
What folly is this?
Servant
I will give up my other work.
I throw
my
swords and lances
down in the dust. Do not send me
to distant courts; do not bid me
undertake new conquests. But make
me the gardener of your flower
garden.
Queen
What will your duties be?
3
Servant
The service of your idle days.
I will keep fresh the grassy path
where you walk in the morning, where
your feet will be greeted with praise
at every step by the flowers eager for
death.

3 THE GARDENER I will swing you in a swing among the branches of the saplaparna, where the early evening moon will struggle to kiss your skirt through the leaves. I will replenish with scented oil the lamp that burns by your bedside, and decorate your footstool with sandal and saffron paste in wondrous designs. Queen What will you have for your reward ? Sercant To be allowed to hold your little fists like tender lotus-buds and slip flower chains over your wrists; to tinge the soles of your feet with the red juice of ashoka petals and kiss away the speck of dust that may chance to linger there. Queen Your prayers are granted, my servant, you will be the gardener of my flower garden.

THE GARDENER
2
An, poet, the evening draws near;
your hair is turning grey.
in your lonely musing hear
the message of the hereafter ?"
“Do you
"It is evening," the poet said, “and
I am listening because some one may
call from the village, late though it be.
"I watch if young straying hearts
meet together, and two pairs of cager
eyes beg for music to brcak their
silence and speak for them.
" Who is there to weave their
passionate songs,
if I sit on the shore
of life and contemplate death and
the beyond ?
The carly evening star disappears.
* The glow of a funcral pyre slowly
dies by the silent river.

46
THE GARDENER
5
Jackals cry in chorus from the
courtyard of the deserted house in the
light of the worn-out moon.
"If some wanderer, leaving home,
come here to watch the night and
with bowed head listen to the murmur
of the darkness, who is there to
whisper the secrets of life into his
ears if I, shutting my doors, should
try to free myself from mortal
bonds ?
"It is a trifle that my hair is
turning grey
"I am ever as young or as old as
the youngest and the oldest of this
village.
Some have smiles, sweet and
simple, and some a sly twinkle in
4
their eyes.
"Some have tears that well up in
the daylight, and others tears that are
hidden in the gloom.

4
THE GARDENER
2
Ah, poet, the evening draws near;
your hair is turning grey.
“Do you in your lonely musing hear
the message of the hereafter ? "
"It is evening," the poet said," and
I am listening because some one may
call from the village, late though it be.
“ I watch if young straying hearts
meet together, and two pairs of eager
eyes beg for music to break their
silence and speak for them.
Who is there to weave their
passionate songs, if I sit on the shore
of life and contemplate death and
the beyond ?
“The early evening star disappears.
The glow of a funeral pyre slowly
dies by the silent river.

THE GARDENER
5
"Jackals cry in chorus from the
courtyard of the descrted house in the
light of the worn-out moon.
"If some wanderer, leaving home,
come here to watch thic night and
with bowed hcad listen to the murmur
of the darkness, who is there to
whisper the secrets of life into his
cars if I, shutting my doors, should
try to free myself from mortal
bonds ?
“It is a trifle that my hair is
turning grey.
"I am ever as young or as old as
the youngest and the oldest of this
village.
"Some have smiles, sweet and
simple, and some a sly twinkle in
their eyes.
Some have tcars that well
up
in
the daylight, and others tcars that are
hidden in the gloom.

6 THE GARDENER They all have need for me, and I have no time to brood over the afterlife. "I am of an age with each, what matter if my hair turns grey ?

THE GARDENER
7
3
IN the morning I cast my net into
the sea.
I dragged up from the dark abyss
things of strange aspect and strange
beauty-some shone like a smile, some
glistened like tears, and some were
flushed like the cheeks of a bride.
When with the day's burden I
went home, my love ras sitting in
the garden idly teariog the leaves of
a flower.
I besitated for & moment, and then
placed at her feet all that I had
dragged up, and stood silent.
She glanced at them and said,
" What strange things are these ? I
know pot of what use they are !"
I bored my head in shame and
thought, "I have not fought for
11

8
THE GARDENER
these, I did not buy them in the
market; they are not fit gifts for
her."
Then the whole night through I
flung them one by one into the street.
In the morning travellers came;
they picked them up and carried
them into far countries.

THE GARDENER
9
4
Au me, why did they build my
house by the road to the market
town?
They moor their laden boats near
my trees.
They come and go and wander at
their will.
I sit and watch them; my time
wears on.
Turn them away I cannot. And
thus my days pass by.
Night and day their steps sound
by my door.
Vainly I cry, "I do not know
you."
Some of them are known to my
fingers, some to my nostrils, the
blood in my veins scems to know

10
THE GARDENER
them, and some are known to my
dreams.
Turn them away I cannot. I call
them and say,
“Come to my house
whoever chooses. Yes, come."
In the morning the bell rings in the
temple.
They come with their baskets in
their hands.
Their feet are rosy red. The early
light of dawn is on their faces.
Turn them away I cannot. I call
them and I say, " Come to my garden
to gather flowers. Come hither."
In the mid-day the gong sounds
at the palace gate.
I know not why they leave their
work and linger near my hedge.
The flowers in their hair are pale
and faded; the notes are languid in
their futes,

THE GARDENER 11 Turn them away I cannot. I call them and say, "The shade is cool under my trees. Come, friends." At night the crickets chirp in the woods. Who is it that comes slowly to my door and gently knocks ? I uely see the face, not a word is spoken, the stillness of the sky is all around. Turn away my silent guest I cannot. I look at the face through the dark, and hours of dreams pass by.

12 THE GARDENER 5 I AM restless. I am athirst for faraway things. My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance. O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute ! I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in this spot evermore, I am eager and wakeful, I am a stranger in a strange land. Thy breath comes to me whispering an impossible hope. Thy tongue is known to my heart as its very own. O Far-to-seek, O the keen call of thy flute ! I forget, I ever forget, that I know

THE GARDENER
13
not the way, that I have not the
winged horse.
I am listless, I am a wanderer in my
heart.
In the sunny haze of the languid
hours, what vast vision of thine takes
shape in the blue of the sky!
O Farthest end, O the keen call
of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that the gates
are shut everywhere in the house
where I dwell alone!

14
THE GARDENER
6
THE tame bird was in a cage, the
free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it
was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, “O my love, let
us fly to wood."
The cage bird whispers, Come
hither, let us both live in the
cage."
Says the free bird, “ Among bars,
where is there room to spread one's
wings ? "
Alas," cries the cage bird, “I
should not know where to sit perched
in the sky..
The free bird cries, “My darling,
sing the songs of the woodlands."
bird
says, “Sit by my side,
The cage

THIS GARDENIN 18 I'll teach you the spread of this learned." The forest. biril orlon, " No, ne jol songs can never be taughin," Thic cngo hired anys, " Alns for me, I know not the songs of thiet woonlande." Their love in intense with long but they never can fly wing 10 wini, Through the lours of the ragelly look, and vain in their wich so l'inny each other. Tr.ery flutty thrir wings in yearning, and ging, “ CAO CHAT, soy leci" The foortiid crins, “ 11. Amma, 1 fre the cond U*31/11.4.1%" The kid wh.14, " flxt, 17 at gure and 41,5

16
THE GARDENER
7
O MOTHER, the young Prince is to
pass by our door,-how can I attend
to my work this morning ?
Show me how to braid up my hair;
tell me what garment to put on,
Why do you look at me amazed,
mother?
I know well he will not glance up
once at my window; I know he will
pass out of my sight in the twinkling
of an eye; only the vanishing strain
of the flute will come sobbing to me
from afar,
But the young Prince will pass by
our door, and I will put on my best
for the moment,
O mother, the young Prince did
pass by our door, and the morning sun
flashed from his chariot.

TIIE GANDESER 17
I strept aside thc vcil from my face,
I torc the ruby chain from my neck
and fiung it in his path.
Why do you look at me amazed,
mother?
I knot well he did not pick up my
chain; I knorr it tras crushed under his
Thces Icaring a red strin upon the
dust, and no onc knots that my gift
was nor to whom.
But the young Princc did pass by our
door, and I flung thc jerre from my
brcast belorc his path.

18
THE GARDENER
8
WHEN the lamp went out by my bed
I woke up with the early birds.
I sat at my open window with a
fresh wreath on my loose hair.
The
young traveller came along the
road in the rosy mist of the morning.
A pearl chain was on his neck, and
the sun's rays fell on his crown.
He stopped before my door and asked
me with an eager cry,
" Where is
she ?"
For very shame I could not say,
“She is I, young traveller, she is I."
It was dusk and the lamp was not
I was listlessly braiding my hair,
The young traveller came on his
chariot in the glow of the setting sun.

TIE GARDENER
10
His horses irerc foaming at the
mouth, and there was dust on his
garment.
IIc alighted at my door and asked
in a tircd voicc,“ hcrc is she?"
For very shame I could not say,
"She is I, weary traveller, she is I."
It is on April night. The lamp is
burning in my room.
The breczc of the south comes
gently. The noisy parrot slecps in
its cage.
My bodice is of the colour of the
peacock's throat, and my mantic is
grcen as young grass.
I sit upon the floor at the vindow
watching the deserted street.
Through the dark night I keep
humming
“She is I, despairing
traveller, she is 1."

20
THE GARDENER
9
WHEN I go alone at night to my
love-tryst, birds do not sing, the wind
docs not stir, the houses on both sides
of the street stand silent.
It is my own anklets that grow loud
at every step and I am ashamed.
When I sit on my balcony and listen
for his footsteps, leaves do not rustle
on the trees, and the water is still in
the river like the sword on the knees
of a sentry fallen asleep.
It is my own heart that beats wildly
-I do not know how to quiet it.
When my love comes and sits by
my side, when my body trembles and
my cyelids droop, the night darkens,

THE GARDENER
21
the wind blows out the lamp, and the
clouds drat rcils over the stars.
It is the jewel at my own breast
that shines and gives light. I do not
know how to hide it.

22 THE GARDENER 10 LET your work be, bride. Listen, the guest has come. Do you hear, he is gently shaking the chain which fastens the door ? See that your anklets make no loud noise, and that your step is not overhurried at meeting him. Let your work be, bride, the guest has come in the evening. No, it is not the ghostly wind, bride, do not be frightened. It is the full moon on a night of April; shadows are pale in the courtyard; the sky overhead is bright. Draw your veil over your face if you must, carry the lamp to the door if No, it is not the ghostly wind, bride, do not be frightened. you fear,

TIIE GARDENER
09
Harc no prord with him
you nnc
shy; stand aside by thc door when you
meet him.
It he asks you questions, and it
you wish to, you can lover your cyes
in silence.
Do not let your bmcclcts jinglc
when, lamp in hand, you lead him in.
llave no word with him if you nrc
shy.
Have you not finished your work yet,
bride! Listen, the guest lins come.
Have you not lit thc lamp in the
Cowshed ?
IInvc you not got rendy thic offering
baskct for the cvcning service ?
JInve you not put the red lucky
mark at the parting of your hinir, nnd
donc your toilet for the night ?
O bride, do you hcor, the guest lins
come?
Let
Your
work bel

24
THE GARDENER
11
COME as you are; do not loiter over
your toilet.
If your braided hair has loosened, if
the parting of your hair be not straight,
if the ribbons of your bodice be not
fastened, do not mind.
Come as you are; do not loiter over
your toilet.
Come, with quick steps over the
grass.
If the raddle come from your feet
because of the dew, if the rings of bells
upon your feet slacken, if pearls drop
out of your chain, do not mind.
Come, with quick steps over the
grass.
Do
you see the clouds wrapping the
sky?

TIIE GARDENER 05 Flocks of cranes fly up from the further rivcr-bank and fitful gusts of trind rush over the heath. The anxious cattle nin to thcir stalls in the village. Do you see the clouds wrapping the sky? In vain you light your toilet lamp mit flickers and goes out in tlic wind, Who can know tint your cyclids have not been touched with lnmpblack! For your cycs are darker than main-clouds. In vain you light your toilct lampit goes out. Comc as you arc; do not loiter orer your toilct. I thc wreath is not woven, who cares; iſ the wrist-clinin has not been linked, let it bc.

26
THE GARDENER
The sky is overcast with clouds-it
is late.
Come as you are; do not loiter over
your toilet.

Till (
CUNDI:41:11
-
Ir drug mer:!:) Iv 17:18 ani riil 10!!
ri!r!.-7. portir, Oro to y lale.
Tim var? wiil !!!" sini yorit
Arr: A.!11!,!!r il perir.
n...! ! !. fron? rain is
rmt!: 2:1, 2:1!:relix: laroline
tyre tl;r 1.::r lising !!!r liroog lila
!!.- dosryl.nl: aloner 'vil greint
I hivio pull thor !.!!!.:: ! Irrir
#!r», id.ry aur (malizia rzy lirail
(r. O amor tro mylalr, of
I! »«; #v!!! l« Hilir Ast:: 1:1:16:
MART, , () rose to say lalr.
Tie pa!:y 2.7m is ann, and this
wi:! Bunlar numri.
Yobt 1!.cr&!!! will siray ! of

28 THE GARDENER your dark eyes like birds from their nests. Your veil will drop to your feet. Come, O come to my lake if you must sit idle. If you would leave off your play and dive in the water, come, O come to my lake. Let your blue mantle lie on the shore; the blue water will cover you and hide you. The waves will stand a-tiptoe to kiss your neck and whisper in your ears. Come, O come to my lake, if you would dive in the water. If you must be mad and leap to your death, come, O come to my lake. It is cool and fathomlessly deep. It is dark like a sleep that is dreamless.

TII: CA.IR
T.comin is clothes!!s And
crk,!!ere,
Crown, Oman Pro Lir, i! 10!
*r.!! pse tu :: drain

30
THE GARDENER
13
I ASKED nothing, only stood at the
edge of the wood behind the tree.
Languor was still upon the eyes
of the dawn, and the dew in the air.
The lazy smell of the damp grass
hung in the thin mist above the earth.
Under the banyan tree you were
milking the cow with your hands,
tender and fresh as butter.
And I was standing still.
I did not say a word. It was the
bird that sang unseen from the thicket.
The mango tree was shedding its
flowers upon the village road, and the
bees came humming one by one.
On the side of the pond the gate of
Shiva's temple was opened and the
worshipper had begun his chants.

T111 GADISER
With this stoor) <! yrir las las
*ir milling the cow.
I knod with thiye emplean.
1 dslr amarim! Tri.
Tir ilye mpir with the grind o!
thir Al thr imple
Tir as! **l in the real
from the hearts of the driver rattle.
With the prime pritrle al lliris
Ha, we rain for this pirro,
Yr? Horr* *tr jinging, and
bonnement or thira:.
Tr Tinziroma1 dinn!

32 THE GARDENER 14 I was walking by the road, I do not know why, when the noonday was past and bamboo branches rustled in the wind. The prone shadows with their outstretched arms clung to the feet of the hurrying light. The koels were weary of their songs. I was walking by the road, I do not know why. The hut by the side of the water is shaded by an overhanging tree. Some one was busy with her work, and her bangles made music in the corner. I stood before this hut, I know not why.

TIIE GARDEXER
33
The narrow winding road crosses
many a mustard field, and many a
mango forest.
It passes by the temple of the
village and thic market at the river
landing-placc.
I stopped by this hut, I do not know
why.
Years ago it was a day of broczy
March when thc murmur of the spring
Tras languorous, and mongo blossoms
tretc dropping on the dust,
Tric rippling water Icapt and licked
the brass vesscl that stood on the
landing-step.
I think of that day of broczy Marchi,
I do not know why.
Shadows arc deepening and catulc
returning to their folds.
The light is grcy upon the londy
D

TIIE CARDEXER
21
The narrow winding mad crocars
many a mustard field, and many m
hinngo forest.
It passes by the temple of the
village and the market nt the river
landing-place.
I stopped by this hul, I do not know
why:
Years ago it was n day of loreczy
March when thc murmur of the spring
was langjorous, and mango blossoms
were dropping on the cust.
Tlic rippling water fcapt and licked
the brass rossed that slowl on the
landing-stop.
I think of that day of horrezy March,
I do not know why.
1
Shadors arc deepening and cattle
retuming to their folds.
The light is gocy upon the lonely
-
D

34
THE GARDENER
meadows, and the villagers are waiting
for the ferry at the bank.
I slowly return upon my steps, I
do not know why.

TIIE GANDESEN
15
I Nux as a musk-dort nirs in the
shadow of the forest mud with his
own perlumc.
The night is thic night o midlar,
the breeze is the breeze of thic wra!!
I lose my may and I me, I
seck what I annot get, I f! «!::
do not seek
From my heart comes ou
!!
dances the image al my ordine.
Thc glenming vision flits on.
I try to clasp it firmly, if c!
and leds mc astray.
I seck shat I canno! friIS!
that I do not seek

36 THE GARDENER 16 Hands cling to hands and eyes linger on eyes : thus begins the record of our hearts. It is the moonlit night of March ; the sweet smell of henna is in the air; my flute lies on the earth neglected and your garland of flowers is unfinished. This love between you and me is simple as a song. Your veil of the saffron colour makes my eyes drunk. The jasmine wreath that you wove me thrills to my heart like praise. It is a game of giving and withholding, revealing and screening again; some smiles and some little shyness, and some sweet useless struggles.

THE GARDEXER 37
This love between you and me is
simple as a song,
No myslery beyond the present ;
no striving for the impossiblc; no
shadow behind the charın; no groping
in thic depth of the dark.
This love between you nnd me is
simplc as a song.
We do not stay out of all words
into the crcr silent: we do not mise
our hands to the void for things
beyond hope.
It is cnough what we give and we
gct.
Wc have not crushed the joy to
the utmost to wring Imm it the ninc
of pain.
This lore between you and me is
simpic as a song

38 THE GARDENER 17 THE yellow bird sings in their tree and makes my heart dance with gladness. We both live in the same village, and that is our one piece of joy. Her pair of pet lambs come to graze in the shade of our garden trees. If they stray into our barley field, I take them up in my arms. The name of our village is Khanjanā, and Anjanā they call river. My name is known to all the village, and her name is Ranjanā. our Only one field lies between us. Bees that have hived in our grove go to seek honey in theirs. Flowers launched from their land-

E GIBIZ
Frient
in the
TE
Era TE
The ci o
PILIT I OKT
HIT TROTZO ZIT E Tilver
is
em The CW
Some the sense tri mily
TIeri sering me
ܝܺܫܫܢ݈ܪܺܫ21 wr
-
m * ܫܪܝܨܝܺܫܢ
Termite en
Karte Hoe smerniciri.
ale i form Ser wat
The Turquiem ir
Mie LL.ME dor silumot by die
porno mamma. De az orrom
LTE IT RUTTI IL HI E ilusam
landini

40 THE GARDENER 18 WHEN the two sisters go to fetch water, they come to this spot and they smile. They must be aware of somebody who stands behind the trees whenever they go to fetch water. The two sisters whisper to each other when they pass this spot. They must have guessed the secret of that somebody who stands behind the trees whenever they go to fetch water. Their pitchers lurch suddenly, and water spills when they reach this spot. They must have found out that somebody's heart is beating who TIIE GARDENER 41 stands behind the trees sphenever they go to fetch mater. The two sisters glance at cach other when they come to this spot, and they smile. There is a laughter in their smiltstepping ſect, which makes confusion in somebody's mind tho stands behind the trees whenever they go to fctch water,

4.2
THE GARDENER
19
You walked by the riverside path
with the full pitcher upon your hip.
Why did you swiftly turn your face
and
peep at me through your fluttering
veil ?
That gleaming look from the dark
came upon me like a breeze that sends
a shiver through the rippling water
and sweeps away to the shadowy
shore.
It came to me like the bird of the
evening that hurriedly flies across the
lampless room from the one open
window to the other, and disappears
in the night.
You are hidden as a star behind the
hills, and I am a passer-by upon the
road.
But why did you stop for a moment
---

THE GARDENER 43 and glance at my face through your veil while you walked by the riverside path with the full pitcher upon your hip?

44
THE GARDENER
20
Day after day he comes and goes
away
Go, and give him a flower from my
friend.
If he asks who was it that sent it, I
cntrcat you do not tell him my name
for he only comes and goes away.
hair, my
He sits on the dust under the tree.
Spread there a seat with flowers and
leaves, my friend,
His eyes are sad, and they bring
sadness to
my
heart.
He does not speak what he has in
mind; he only comes and goes away.

THE GARDENER
21
Why did he choose to come to my
door, the sandering youth, when the
day dawned ?
As I come in and out I pass by him
crery time, and my cyes are caught by
his face
I know not if I should speak to him
or keep silent. Why did he choose to
come to my door?
The cloudy rights in July are dark;
the sky is soft bluc in the autumn; the
spring days are restless with the south
wind.
He weaves his songs with fresh
tunes every time.
I turn from my work and my cyres
fill with the mist. Why did he choose
to come to my door?

46
THE GARDENER
22
WHEN she passed by me with quick
steps, the end of her skirt touched
mie.
From the unknown island of a
heart came a sudden warm breath of
spring.
A flutter of a flitting touch brushed
me and vanished in a moment, like a
torn flower petal blown in the breeze.
It fell upon my heart like a sigh of
her body and whisper of her heart.

THE GARDENER 47 23 Why do you sit there and jingle your bracelets in mcrc idic sport? Fill your pitchcr. It is time for you to come home, Why do you stir the water with your lands and fitfully glance at the rond for somc one in incrc idle sport? Fill your pitcher and comc liomc. The morning hours pass by- the dark water flows on. The waves arc laughing and whispering to each other in mcrc idle sport. The wondering clouds have gathered al the edge of the sky on yonder risc of thc land. Thcy linger and look at your face and smilc in mcrc idle sport. Fill your pitcher and come home.

48
THE GARDENER
24
Do not keep to yourself the secret o
your heart, my friend !
Say it to me, only to me, in secret.
You who smile so gently, softl;
whisper, my heart will hear it, not my
ears.
The night is deep, the house i
silent, the birds' nests are shroude
with sleep.
Speak to me through hesitatin
tears, through faltering smiles, throug
sweet shame and pain, the secret o
your heart !

THE GARDENER
49
25
"Cose to us, youth, tell us truly why
there is madness in your eyes?”
"I know not what wine of wild
poppy I have drunk, that there is this
madness in my eyes."
“Ah, shame!"
“Tell, some are wise and some
foolish, some are watchful and some
careless. There are cyes that smile
and eyes that weep-and madness is
in my eyes."
" Youth, why do you stand so still
under the shadow of the tree?"
"My feet are languid with the
burden of my heart, and I stand still
in the shadow."
"Ah, shame!"
N

No text on this page.

THE GARDEVER
26
“What comes from your willing
hands I take. I beg for nothing
more."
"Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."
“If there be a stray flower for me
I will wear it in my heart."
“But if there bc thoms?"
"I will endure them."
"Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."
C5
99
If but once you should raise your
loving cyes to my face it would make
my life strect beyond death."
"But if there be only cruel
glances?"
11

52
THE GARDENER
"I will keep them piercing my
heart."
* Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."

TIIE GARDENER
59
27
“Trust love even if it brings sorrow.
Do not close up your heart."
" Ab no, my friend, your words are
ceri, I cannot understand them."
The beart is only for giving away
more and a song, my love."
* 4 m, my friend, your words are
dark, I cannot understand them."
46
Pleasure is ſrail like a dewdrop,
while it laughs it dies. But sorrow is
strong and abiding. Let sorrowful
love wake in your cyes."
"Ah no, my friend, your words are
dark, I cannot understand them."
“The lotus blooms in the sight of
the sun, and loses all that it has, It

54
THE GARDENER
would not remain in bud in the
eternal winter mist.'
"Ah no, my friend, your words are
dark, I cannot understand them."

THE GARDENER
55
28
Your questioning cyes are sad. They
seek to know my mcaning as the moon
vould fathom the sea.
I have bared my life before your
cyes from end to end, with nothing
hidden or held back. That is why you
know me not.
If it were only a gem, I could break
it into a hundred picces and string
them into a chain to put on your neck.
If it were only a flower, round and
small and sweet, I could pluck it from
its stem to set it in your hair.
But it is a heart, my beloved.
Where are its shores and its bottom ?
You know not the limits of this
kingdom, still you are its queen.
If it were only a moment of pleasure
it would flower in an easy smile, and

56
THE GARDENER
you could see it and read it in
moment.
If it were merely a pain it wou
melt in limpid tears, reflecting
inmost secret without a word.
But it is love, my beloved.
Its pleasure and pain are boundle:
and endless its wants and wealth,
It is as near to you as your life, b
you can never wholly know it.

THE GARDENER
57
29
SPEAK to me, my love! Tell me in
words what you sang.
The night is dark. The stars are
lost in clouds. The wind is sighing
through the leaves.
I will let loose my hair. My blue
cloak will cling round me like night. I
will clasp your hcad to my bosom; and
there in the sweet loncliness murmur
on your Icart. I will shut my cyes
and listen. I will not look in your face.
When your words arc ended, we will
sit still and silent. Only the trees will
whisper in the dark.
The night will palc. The day will
dawn. We shall look at cach other's
cyes and go on our different paths.
Speak to me, my love! Tell me in
words what you 18.

58
THE GARDENER
30
You are the evening cloud floating in
the sky of my
dreams,
I paint you and fashion you ever
with my love longings.
You are my own, my own, Dweller
in my endless dreams!
Your feet are rosy-red with the glow
of my heart's desire, Gleaner of my
sunset songs!
Your lips are bitter-sweet with the
taste of my wine of pain.
You are my own, my own, Dweller
in my lonesome dreams !
With the shadow of my passion
have I darkened your eyes, Haunter
of the depth of my gaze !

THE GIRDEIR
P
Ikam mad mp4
mrloratisardar Ente
Tonar-Tomar om, Dink
in ardasthlancers!

60
THE GARDENER
31
My heart, the bird of the wilderness,
has found its sky in your eyes.
They are the cradle of the morning,
they are the kingdom of the stars.
My songs are lost in their depths.
Let me but soar in that sky, in its
lonely immensity.
Let me but cleave its clouds and
spread wings in its sunshine.

61 THE GARDENER 32 Tell me if this be all true, my lover, tell me if this be true. When these eyes flash their lightning the dark clouds in your breast make stormy answer. Is it true that my lips are sweet like the opening bud of the first conscious lovc? Do the memories of vanished months of May linger in my limbs ? Does the carth, like a harp, shiver into songs with the touch of my feet? Is it then true that the dewdrops fall from the eyes of night when I am seen, and the morning light is glad when it wraps my body round? Is it true, is it true, that your love travellcd alone through ages and Worlds in search of me?

62
THE GARDENER
That when you found me at last,
your age-long desire found utter peace
in my gentle speech and my eyes and
lips and flowing hair ?
Is it then true that the mystery of
the Infinite is written on this little
forehead of mine ?
Tell me, my lover, if all this be true.

THE GARDENER
63
33
I LOVE you, beloved. Forgive me
my love.
Like a bird losing its way I am
caught.
When my heart was shaken it lost
its veil and was naked. Cover it with
pity, beloved, and forgive me my love.
If you cannot love me, beloved,
forgive me my pain.
Do not look askance at me from afar.
I will steal back to my corner and
sit in the dark.
With both hands I will cover my
naked shame.
Turn your face from me, beloved,
and forgive me my pain.
If you love me, beloved, forgive me
my joy.

64
THE GARDENER
When my heart is borne away by
the flood of liappiness, do not smile at
my perilous abandonment.
When I sit on my throne and rule
you with my tyranny of love, when
like a goddess I grant you my favour,
bear with my pride, beloved, and
forgive me my joy.

THE GARDENER
65
34
Do not go, my love, without asking
my leave.
I have watched all night, and now
my eyes are heavy with sleep.
I fear lest I lose you when I am
sleeping.
Do not go, my love, without asking
my leave.
I start up and stretch my hands to
touch you. I ask myself, “Is it a
dream?”
Could I but entangle your feet with
my heart and hold them fast to my
breast 1
Do not go, my love, without asking
my leave.

66
THE GARDENER
35
LEST I should know you too easily,
you play with me.
You blind me with flashes of
laughter to hide your tears.
I know, I know your art,
You never say the word you
would.
Lest I should not prize you, you
elude me in a thousand ways.
Lest I should confuse you with the
crowd, you
stand aside.
I know, I know your art,
You never walk the path you would.
Your claim is more than that of
others, that is why you are silent.
With playful carelessness you avoid
my gifts.
I know, I know your art,
You never will take what you would.

THE GARDENER 07 36 He whispered, "My love, raise your cyes." I sharply chid him, and said "Gol"; but he did not stir. He stood before me and held both my hands. I said, “Leave mcl"; but he did not go. He brought his face near my ear. I glanced at him and said, “What a shamel"; but he did not move. His lips touched my cheek. 1 trembled and said, “You dare too much"; but he had no shame. He put a flower in my hair. I said, "It is useless !"; but he stood unmoved. He took the garland from my neck and went away. I weep and ask my heart, "Why does he not come back?"

68
THE GARDENER
37
WOULD you put your wreath of fre
flowers on my neck, fair one ?
But you must know that the o
wreath that I had woven is for t
many, for those who are seen
glimpses, or dwell in lands unexplore
or live in poets' songs.
It is too late to ask my heart
return for yours.
There was a time when my life w
like a bud, all its perfume was stor
in its core.
Now it is squandered far and wid
Who knows the enchantment th
can gather and shut it up again ?
My heart is not mine to give to o
only, it is given to the many.

THE GARDENER 09 38 My love, once upon a time your poet launched a great epic in his mind. Alas, I was not careful, and it struck your ringing anklets and came to grief. It broke up into scraps of lay scattered at your feet. All my cargo of the stories of old wars was tossed by the laughing waves and soaked in tears and sank. You must make this loss good to me, songs and my love. If my claims to immortal fame after death are shattered, make me immortal while I live. And I will not mourn for my loss nor blame you.

No text on this page.

THE GARDENER
40
An unbelieving smile flits on your
eyes when I come to you to take my
leave.
I have done it so often that you
think I will soon return.
To tell you the truth I have the
same doubt in my mind.
For the spring days come again
time after time; the full moon takes
leave and comes on another visit,
the flowers come again and blush
upon their branches year after year,
and it is likely that I take my
leave
only to come to you again.
But keep the illusion awhile; do
not send it
away
with
haste.
When I say I leave you for all
time, accept it as true, and let
ungentle

72
THE GARDENER
mist of tears for one moment deepen
the dark rim of your eyes.
Then smile as archly as you like
when I come again.

TIIE GARDENER
78
41
I LONG to speak the deepest words
I have to say to you; but I darc not,
for fear you should laugh.
That is why I laugh at myself and
shatter my secret in jest.
I make light of my pain, afraid you
should do so.
I long to tell you the trucst words
I have to say to you ; but I darc not,
bcing afraid that you would not
believe them.
That is why I disguise them in
untruth, saying the contrary of what
I mean,
I make my pain appear absurd,
afraid that you should do so.
I long to use the most precious
----

74
THE GARDENER
words I have for you; but I dare
not, fearing I should not be paid with
like value.
That is why I give you hard names
and boast of
ту
callous strength.
I hurt you, for fear you should
never know any pain.
I long to sit silent by you; but I dare
not lest my heart come out at my lips.
That is why I prattle and chatter
lightly and hide my heart behind
words.
I rudely handle my pain, for fear
you should do so.
side;
I long to go away
from
your
but I dare not, for fear my
cowardice
should become known to you.
That is why I hold my head high
and carelessly come into your presence.
Constant thrusts from your eyes
keep my pain fresh for ever.

THE GARDENER 75 42 O BIAD, superbly drunk; If you kick open your doors and play the fool in public; If you empty your bag in a night, and snap your fingers at prudence; If you walk in curious paths and play with useless things; Reck not rhyme or reason ; If unfurling your sails before the storm you snap the rudder in two, Then I will follow you, comrade, and be drunken and go to the dogs. I have wasted my days and nights in the company of steady wise neighbours. Much knowing has turned my hair grey, and much watching has made my sight dim.

76
THE GARDENER
For years I have gathered and
heaped up scraps and fragments of
things :
Crush them and dance upon them,
and scatter them all to the winds,
For I know 'tis the height of wisdom
to be drunken and go to the dogs.
****
Let all crooked scruples vanish,
let me hopelessly lose my way.
Let a gust of wild giddiness come
and sweep me away
from
my anchors.
The world is peopled with worthies,
and workers, useful and clever.
There are men who are easily first,
and men who come decently after.
Let them be happy and prosper,
and let me be foolishly futile.
For I know 'tis the end of all works
to be drunken and go to the dogs.
I swear to surrender this moment
all claims to the ranks of the decent.

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78
THE GARDENER
43
No, my friends, I shall never be an
ascetic, whatever you may say.
I shall never be an ascetic if she
does not take the vow with me.
It is my firm resolve that if I
cannot find a shady shelter and a
companion for my penance, I shall
never turn ascetic.
No, my friends, I shall never leave
my hearth and home, and retire into
the forest solitude, if rings no merry
laughter in its echoing shade and if
the end of no saffron mantle flutters
in the wind; if its silence is not
deepened by soft whispers.
I shall never be an ascetic.

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80 THE GARDENER a few fleeting moments we have been made immortal. If friendly people came and flocked around us, we should humbly bow to them and say, This extravagant good fortune is an embarrassment to us. Room is scarce in the infinite sky where we dwell. For in the springtime flowers come in crowds, and the busy wings of bees jostle each other. Our little heaven, where dwell only we two immortals, is too absurdly narrow.

THE GARDENER
81
45
To the guests that must go bid
God's speed and brush away all traces
of their steps.
Take to your bosom with a smile
what is easy and simple and near.
To-day is the festival of phantoms
that know not when they die.
Let your laughter be but a meaning.
less mirth like twinkles of light on
the ripples.
Let your life lightly dance on the
edges of Time like dew on the tip of
a leaf.
Strike in chords from your harp
fitful momentary rhythms.

82
THE GARDENER
46
You left me and went on your way.
I thought I should mourn for you
and set your solitary image in my
heart wrought in a golden song.
But ah, my evil fortune, time is
short.
Youth wanes year after year; the
spring days are fugitive; the frail
flowers die for nothing, and the wise
man warns me that life is but a
dewdrop on the lotus leaf.
Should I neglect all this to gaze after
one who has turned her back on me?
That would be rude and foolish,
for time is short.
Then, come, my rainy nights with
pattering feet; smile, my golden

THE GARDENER 83 autumn; come, careless April, scattering your kisses abroad. You come, and you, and you also ! My loves, you know we are mortals. Is it wise to break one's heart for the one who takes her heart away ? For time is short. It is sweet to sit in a corner to muse and write in rhymes that you are all my world. It is heroic to hug one's sorrow and determine not to be consoled. But a fresh face peeps across my door and raises its eyes to my eyes. I cannot but wipe away my tears and change the tune of my song. For time is short.

84 THE GARDENER 47 your face. If you would have it so, I will end my singing. If it sets your heart aflutter, I will take away my eyes from If it suddenly startles you in your walk, I will step aside and take another path. If it confuses you in your flowerweaving, I will shun your lonely garden. If it makes the water wanton and wild, I will not row my boat by your bank.

THE GARDENER
85
48
FREE me from the bonds of your
sweetness, my love! No more of this
wine of kisses.
This mist of heavy incense stifles
my heart.
Open the doors, make room for the
morning light.
I am lost in you, wrapped in the
folds of your caresses.
Free me from your spells, and give
me back the manhood to offer you my
freed heart.

86 THE GARDENER 49 her to my I HOLD her liands and press breast. I try to fill my arms with her loveliness, to plunder her sweet smile with kisses, to drink her dark glances with my eyes. Ah, but, where is it? Who can strain the blue from the sky ? I try to grasp the beauty; it eludes me, leaving only the body hands. Baffled and weary I come back. How can the body touch the flower which only the spirit may touch ? in my

THE GARDENER
87
50
LOVE, my heart longs day and night
for the meeting with you -- for the
meeting that is like all - devouring
death.
Sweep me away like a storm; take
everything I have; break open my
sleep and plunder my drcams. Rob
me of my world.
In that devastation, in the utter
nakedness of spirit, let us become one
in beauty.
Alas for my vain desire! Where is
this hope for union except in thee, my
God?

88
THE GARDENER
-
51
TIEN finish the last song and let us
lcave.
Forget this night when the night is
no more.
Whom do I try to clasp in my
arms ? Dreams can never be made
captive.
My cager
hands
press emptiness to
my heart and it bruises my breast.

THE GARDENER 80 52 Why did the lamp go out ? I shaded it with my cloak to save it from the wind, that is why the lamp went out. Why did the flower fade? I pressed it to my heart with anxious love, that is why the flower faded. Why did the stream dry up ? I put a dam across it to have it for my use, that is why the stream dried up. Why did the harp-string break? I tried to force a note that was beyond its power, that is why the harpstring is broken.

90
THE GARDENER
53
Wiry do you put me to shame with
a look ?
I have not come as a beggar.
Only for a passing hour I stood at
the end of your courtyard outside the
garden hcdge.
Why do you put me to shame with
a look ?
Not a rose did I gather from your
garden, not a fruit did I pluck.
I humbly took my shelter under the
wayside shade where every strange
traveller may stand.
Not a rose did I pluck.
Yes, my feet were tired, and the
shower of rain came down.
The winds cricd out among
the
swaying bamboo branches.

THE GARDENER 91
The clouds ran across the sky as
though in the flight from defeat.
My fect were tired.
I know not what you thought of me
or for whom you were waiting at your
door.
Flashes of lightning dazzled your
watching cyes.
IIow could I know that you could
scc me where I stood in the dark ?
I know not what you thought of me.
The day is ended, and the rain has
ccascd for a moment.
I lcave the shadow of the tree at
the end of your garden and this seat
on thc grass.
It has darkened; shut your door;
go my way.
The day is ended.

92
THE GARDENER
54
WHERE do you hurry with your
basket this late evening when the
marketing is over ?
They all have come home with their
burdens; the moon peeps from above
the village trees.
The echoes of the voices calling for
the ferry run across the dark water to
the distant swamp where wild ducks
sleep.
Where do you hurry with your
basket when the marketing is over ?
Sleep has laid her fingers upon the
eyes of the earth.
The nests of the crows have become
silent, and the murmurs of the bamboo
leaves are silent.
The labourers home from their

THE GARDENER 93 fields spread their mats in the courtyards. Where do you hurry with your basket when the marketing is over ?

THE GARDENER 94 55 IT was mid-day when you went away. The sun was strong in the sky. I had done my work and sat alone on my balcony when you went away. Fitful gusts came winnowing through the smells of many distant fields. The doves cooed tireless in the shade, and a bee strayed in my room humming the news of many distant fields. The village slept in the noonday heat. The road lay deserted. In sudden fits the rustling of the lcaves rose and died. I gazed at the sky and wove in the blue the letters of a name I had known,

THE GARDENER
95
while the village slept in the padar
heat.
I had forgotten to bruid me ksé.
The languid breeze played with it me
my cheek,
The river ran unrufiled unde
shady bank
The lazy white clouds did rciT2
I had forgotten to braid as
It was mid-day ban a
away.
The dust of the road fast
the fields pant
The doresc
leaves.
I was alone i
went away.

96
THE GARDENER
56
I was one among many women busy
with the obscure daily tasks of the
household.
Why did you single me out and
bring me away from the cool shelter
of our common life?
Love unexpressed is sacred. It
shines like gems in the gloom of the
hidden heart. In the light of the
curious day it looks pitifully dark.
Ah, you broke through the cover of
my heart and dragged my trembling
love into the open place, destroying
for ever the shady corner where it
hid its nest.
The other women are the same as
ever.

TIILE GARDENER 97 No one has peeped into their inmost being, and they themselves know not their own secret. Lightly they smile, and weep, chatter, and work Daily they go to the temple, light their lamps, and fetch water from the river. I hoped my love would be saved from the shivering shamc of the shelterless, but you turn your face away. Yes, your path lies open before you, but you have cut off my return, and left mc stripped naked before the world with its lidless eyes staring night and day.

96
THE GARDENER
56
I was one among many women busy
with the obscure daily tasks of the
household.
Why did you single me out and
bring me away from the cool shelter
of our common life?
Love unexpressed is sacred. It
shines like
gems in the gloom of the
hidden heart. In the light of the
curious day it looks pitifully dark.
Ah, you broke through the cover of
my heart and dragged my trembling
love into the open place, destroying
for ever the shady corner where it
hid its nest.
The other women are the same as
ever.

THE GARDENER 07 No one has peeped into their inmost bcing, and they themselves know not their own secret. Lightly they smilc, and weep, chatter, and work. Daily they go to the templc, light their lamps, and fetch water from the river. I hoped my love would be saved from the shivering shame of the shelterless, but you turn your face away. Yes, your path lies open before you, but you have cut off my return, and Icft mc stripped naked before the world with its lidless eyes staring night and day.

98
THE GARDENER
57
I PLUCKED your flower, O world!
I pressed it to my heart and the
thorn pricked.
When the day waned and it
darkened, I found that the flower had
faded, but the pain remained.
More flowers will come to you with
perfume and pride, O world!
But my time for flower-gathering
is over, and through the dark night
I have not my rose, only the pain
remains.

THE GARDENER
00
58
Oxt morning in the flower garden a
blind girl came to offer mc a flower
chain in the cover of a lotus leaf.
I put it round my neck, and tears
came to my cycs.
I kissed her and said, “You arc
blind even as the flatters ore.
"You yoursell know not how
beautiful is your gift."

100
THE GARDENER
59
O WOMAN, you arc not mcrcly the
handiwork of God, but also of mon;
thcsc arc cver endowing you with
beauty from their hcarts.
locts are weaving for you a wcb
with threads of golden imagcry;
painters are giving your form cver
new immortality.
The sca gives its pearls, the mincs
thcir gold, the summer gardens their
Mowers to deck you, to cover you, to
make you more precious.
Thc dcsirc of men's licorts has slied
its glory over your youth.
You arc onc liall woman and onc
half drcam.

TILE GARDENER
101
60
Asidst the rush and roar of life,
O Beauty, carved in stone, you stand
mute and still, alone and aloof.
Great Timc sits enamoured at your
fcct and murmurs :
Speak, speak to me, my lovc;
speak, my bride!”
But your specch is shut up in stone,
O Immovable Beauty !

102 THE GARDENER 61 Peace, my hcart, Ict the time for the parting be swect. Let it not be a death but completeness. Let lovc melt into memory and pain into songs. Lct tlic flight through the sky end in the folding of thc wings over thic nest. Let the last touch of your hands be gentlc likc the flower of the night. Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a moment, and say your last words in silence. I bow to you and hold up my lamp to light you on your way.

THE GARDENER 103 62 In the dusky path of a dream I went to seck thc love who was mine in a former lifc. Her house stood at the end of a desolate street. In thc evening breeze her pet peacock sat drowsing on its perch, and the pigeons were silent in their corner. She set her lamp down by the portal and stood before me. She raised her large cyes to my face and mutely asked, “Are you well, my friend?" I tried to anstrer, but our language had been lost and forgotten. I thought and thought; our names would not come to my mind.

104
THE GARDENER
Tears shone in her eyes. She held
up her right hand to me. I took it
and stood silent.
Our lamp had flickered in the
evening breeze and died.

THE GARDENER
103
63
TRAVELLER, must you go?
The night is still and thc darkness
swoons upon the forest.
The lamps are bright in our balcony,
the flowers all fresh, and the youthful
cyes still awakc.
Is the time for your parting come?
Traveller, must you go?
We have not bound your feet with
our entreating arms.
Your doors are open. Your horse
stands saddled at the gate.
If we have tried to bar your
passage it was but with our songs.
Did we ever try to hold you back
it was but with our cyes.
Traveller, we are helpless to kecp
you. We have only our tears.

106
THE GARDENER
What quenchless fire glows in your
eyes ?
?
What restless fever runs in your
blood ?
What call from the dark urges you
What awful incantation have you
read among the stars in the sky,
that with a sealed secret message
the night entered your heart, silent
and strange ?
If you do not care for merry
meetings, if you must have peace,
weary heart, we shall put our lamps
out and silence our harps.
We shall sit still in the dark in the
rustle of leaves, and the tired moon
will shed pale rays on your window.
O traveller, what sleepless spirit
has touched you from the heart of
the midnight?

THE GARDENER
107
64
I SPENT my day on the scorching
hot dust of the road.
Now, in the cool of the evening, I
knock at the door of the inn. It is
descrted and in ruins.
A grim ashalh trec spreads its
hungry clutching roots through the
gaping fissures of the walls.
Days have been when wayfarers
came here to wash their weary feet.
They spread their mats in the
courtyard in the dim light of the
carly moon, and sat and talked of
strange lands.
They woke refreshed in the morning
when birds made then glad, and
friendly flowers nodded their heads
at them from the wayside.

106
THE GARDENER
What quenchless fire glows in your
eyes ?
?
What restless fever runs in your
blood ?
What call from the dark
urges you
What awful incantation have you
read
among
the stars in the sky,
that with a sealed secret message
the night entered your heart, silent
and strange ?
•
If you do not care for merry
meetings, if you must have peace,
weary heart, we shall put our lamps
out and silence our harps.
We shall sit still in the dark in the
rustle of leaves, and the tired moon
will shed pale rays on your window.
O traveller, what sleepless spirit
has touched you from the heart of
the midnight?

THE GARDENER
107
64
I SPENT my day on the scorching
hot dust of the road.
Now, in the cool of the evening, I
knock at the door of the inn. It is
deserted and in ruins.
A grim ashath tree spreads its
hungry clutching roots through the
gaping fissures of the walls.
Days have been when wayfarers
came here to wash their weary feet.
They spread their mats in the
courtyard in the dim light of the
carly moon, and sat and talked of
strange lands.
They woke refreshed in the morning
when birds made theni glad, and
friendly flowers nodded their heads
at them from the wayside.

108 THE GARDENER But no lighted lamp awaited me when I came here. The black smudges of smoke left by many a forgotten evening lamp stare, like blind eyes, from the wall. Fireflies flit in the bush near the dried-up pond, and bamboo branches fling 'their shadows on the grassgrown path. I am the guest of no one at the end of my day. The long night is before me, and I am tired.

TIIE GARDENER
109
65
Is that your call again?
The evening has come. Weariness
clings round me likc thc arms of
cntrcating love.
Do
you
call mc ?
I had given all my day to you,
cruel mistress, must you also rob mc
of my night?
Somewhere there is an end to
cverything, and the loneness of the
dark is one's own.
Just your voice cut through it
and smite me ?
Has the evening no music of sleep
at your gate ?
Do the silent-winged stars never
climb the sky above your pitiless
towcr ?

--
110
THE GARDENER
Do the flowers never droj
dust in soft death in your ga:
Must you
call
me, you
one ?
Then let the sad
eyes
of lo
watch and weep.
Let the lamp burn in ti
house.
Let the ferry-boat take t]
labourers to their home.
I leave behind my drean
hasten to your call.

THE GARDENER 66 A WANDERING madman was seeking the touchstone, with matted locks, tawny and dust-laden, and body worn to a shadow, his lips tight-pressed, like the shut-up doors of his heart, his burning eyes like the lamp of a glow-worm seeking its matc. Before him the endless ocean roared. The garrulous wares ceasclessly talked of hidden treasures, mocking the ignorance that knew not their meaning. Maybe he now had no hopc rcmaining, yet he would not rest, for the search had become his liſc,- Just as the ocean for ever lifts its arms to the sky for the unattainable 112 THE GARDENER Just as the stars go in circles, yet seeking a goal that can never be reached- Even so on the lonely shore the madman with dusty tawny locks still roamed in search of the touchstone. One day a village boy came up and asked, "Tell me, where did you come at this golden chain about your waist ?" The madman started--the chain that once was iron was verily gold ; it was not a dream, but he did not know when it had changed. He struck his forehead wildlywhere, O where had he without knowing it achieved success ? It had grown into a habit, to pick up pebbles and touch the chain, and to throw them away without looking to see if a change had come; thus the madman found and lost the touchstone.

THE GARDENER 113 The sun was sinking low in the west, the sky was of gold. The madran returned on his footsteps to seek anew the lost treasure, with his strength gone, his body bent, and his heart in the dust, like a tree uprooted.

114 THE GARDENER 67 THOUGH the evening comes comes with slow steps and has signalled for all songs to cease ; Though your companions have gone to their rest and you are tired ; Though fear broods in the dark and the face of the sky is veiled ; Yet, bird, O my bird, listen to me, do not close your wings. That is not the gloom of the leaves of the forest, that is the sea swelling like a dark black snake. That is not the dance of the flowering jasmine, that is flashing foam. Ah, where is the sunny green shore, where is your nest ? Bird, O my bird, listen to me, do not close your wings.

THE GARDENER
115
The lone night lies along your path,
the dawn sleeps bchind the shadowy
hills.
The stars hold their breath counting
the hours, thc fccble moon swims the
decp night.
Bird, O my bird, listen to me, do
not close your wings.
There is no hope, no fear for you.
There is no word, no whisper, no
сгу.
There is no home, no bed of rest.
There is only your own pair of wings
and the pathless sky.
Bird, O my bird, listen to me, do
not close your wings.

116 THE GARDENER 68 NONE lives for ever, brother, and nothing lasts for long. Keep that in mind and rejoice. Our life is not the one old burden, our path is not the one long journey. One sole poet has not to sing one aged song. The flower fades and dies; but he who wears the flower has not to mourn for it for ever. Brother, keep that in inind and rejoice, There must come a full pause to weave perfection into music. Life droops toward its sunset to be drowned in the golden shadows. Love must be called from its play

THE GARDENER
117
to drink sorrow and be borne to the
heaven of tears.
Brother, keep that in mind and
rejoice.
We hasten to gather our ſlowers lest
they arc plundered by the passing
winds.
It quickens our blood and brightens
our cycs to snatch kisses that would
vanish if we delayed.
Our life is cager, our desires arc keen,
for time tolls the bell of parting.
Brother, keep that in mind and
rejoicc.
There is not time for us to clasp a
thing and crush it and fling it away to
the dust.
The hours trip rapidly away, hiding
their drcams in thcir skirts.
Our life is short; it yields but a
few days for love.

118 THE GARDENER Were it for work and drudgery it would be endlessly long. Brother, keep that in mind and rejoice. ! Beauty is sweet to us, because she dances to the same fleeting tune with our lives. Knowledge is precious to us, because we shall never have time to complete it. All is done and finished in the eternal Heaven. But earth's flowers of illusion are kept eternally fresh by death. Brother, keep that in mind and rejoice.

THE GARDENER
110
69
I NUNT for the golden stag.
You may smile, my friends, but I
pursue the vision that cludes me.
I run across hills and dnies, I wander
through namclcss lands, because I am
hunting for the golden stag.
You come and buy in the market
and go back to your homes laden with
goods, but the spell of the homeless
winds has touched me I knot not when
and where.
I have no core in my heart; all my
belongings I have left far behind me.
I run across hills and dales, I Trander
through nameless lands—because I am
hunting for the golden stag.

120 THE GARDENER 70 I REMEMBER a day in my childhood I floated a paper boat in the ditch. It was a wet day of July; I was alone and happy over my play. I floated my paper boat in the ditch. Suddenly the storm clouds thickened, winds came in gusts, and rain poured in torrents. Rills of muddy water rushed and swelled the stream and sunk my boat. Bitterly I thought in my mind that the storm came on purpose to spoil my happiness; all its malice was against me. The cloudy day of July is long today, and I have been musing over all those games in life wherein I was loser.

THE GARDENER
121
I was blaming my fate for the many
tricks it played on me, when suddenly
I remembered the paper boat that
sank in tlic ditch.

122
THE GARDENER
71
The day is not yet done, the fair i
not over, the fair on the river-bank.
I had feared that my time had beei
squandered and
my
last
penny
lost.
But no, my brother, I have stil
something left. My fate has no
cheated me of everything.
The selling and buying are over.
All the dues on both sides have bee:
gathered in, and it is time for me to g
home.
But, gatekeeper, do you ask fo
your toll ?
Do not fear, I have still somethin
left. My fate has not cheated me
everything.
The lull in the wind threatens story

THE GARDENER
123
and the lowering clouds in the test
bode no good.
The hushed water waits for the
wind.
I hurry to cross the river before the
night overtakes me.
O ferryman, you want your fec!
Yes, brother, I have still something
left. My fate has not cheated me of
cverything,
In the wayside under the tree sits
the beggar. Alas, he looks at my face
with a timid hope!
Hc thinks I am rich with the day's
profit.
Yes, brother, I have still somcthing
left. My fate has not cheated me of
cverything.
The night grows dark and the road
lonely. Fireflics gleam among the
Icaves.

124 THE GARDENER ? Who are you that follow me with stealthy silent steps Ah, I know, it is your desire to rob me of all my gains. I will not disappoint you! For I still have something left, and my fate has not cheated me of everything At midnight. I reach home. My hands are empty. You are waiting with anxious eyes at my door, sleepless and silent. Like a timorous bird you fly to my breast with eager love. Ay, ay, my God, much remains still. My fate has not cheated me of everything.

THE GARDENER 125 72 Wrth days of hard travail I raiscd a temple. It had no doors or windows, its walls were thickly built with massivc stones. I forgot all elsc, I shunned all the world, I gazed in rapt contemplation at the image I had set upon the altar. It was always night inside, and lit by the lamps of perfumed oil. The ceaseless smoke of incense round my heart in its heavy coils. Sleepless, I carved on the walls fantastic figures in mazy bewildering lines — winged horses, flowers with human faces, women with limbs like serpents. No passage Icft anywhere through which could enter the song WAS 126 THE GARDENER of birds, the murmur of leaves, or hum of the busy village. The only sound that echoed in its dark dome was that of incantations which I chanted. My mind became keen and still like a pointed flame, my senses swooned in ecstasy. I knew not how time passed till the thunderstone had struck the temple, and a pain stung me through the heart. The lamp looked pale and ashamed ; the carvings on the walls, like chained dreams, stared meaningless in the light as they would fain hide themselves. I looked at the image on the altar. I saw it smiling and alive with the living touch of God. The night I had imprisoned had spread its wings and vanished.

TIIE GARDENER
127
73
INFINITE wealth is not yours, my
patient and dusky mother dust!
You toil to fill the mouths of your
children, but food is scarce.
The gift of gladness that you have
for us is never perfect.
The toys that you make for your
children are fragile.
You cannot satisfy all our hungry
hopes, but should I desert you for
that?
Your smile which is shadowed with
pain is sweet to my eyes.
Your love which knows not fulfil.
ment is dear to my heart.
From your breast you have fed us
with life but not immortality, that is
why your eyes are crer wakeful.
For
ages you are working with

128 THE GARDENER colour and song, yet your heaven is not built, but only its sad suggestion. Over your creations of beauty there is the mist of tears. I will pour my songs into your mute heart, and my love into your love. I will worship you with labour. I have seen your tender face and I love your mournful dust, Mother Earth.

THE GARDENER
129
74
In the world's audicncc hall, the
simplc blade of grass sits on the same
carpet with the sunbeam and the
stars of midnight.
Thus my songs share their seats in
the heart of the world with the music
of the clouds and forests.
But, you man of riches, your sealth
lias no part in the simple grandeur of
the sun's glad gold and the mellow
glcam of the musing moon.
The blessing of the all-embracing
sky is not shed upon it.
And when death appcars, it pales
and withers and crumbles into dust.

130
THE GARDENER
75
39
At midnight the would be ascetic
announced :
This is the time to give up my
home and seek for God. Ah, who has
held me so long in delusion here?
God whispered, “I," but the ears
of the man were stopped.
With a baby asleep at her breast
lay his wife, peacefully sleeping on
one side of the bed.
The man said, “Who are ye that
have fooled me so long?"
The voice said again, “They are
God," but he heard it not.
The baby cried out in its dream,
nestling close to its mother.
God commanded, “Stop, fool, leave
not thy home, but still he heard.
not.

THE GARDEXER 131
God sighed and complained, "Why
docs my scrvant sander to scck me,
forsaking mc ?"

No text on this page.

THE GARDENER
133
TITE Forkman and his wife from
the west country are busy digging to
makc bricks for the kiln.
Their little daughter goes to the
landing-place by the river; there she
has no end of scouring and scrubbing
of pots and pans.
IIcr little brother, with shaven head
and brown, naked, mud-corered limbs,
follows after her and waits patiently
on the high bant: at her bidding.
She gors back home with the full
pitcher poised on her head, the shining
brass pot in her left hand, holding
the child with her right-she the
tiny servant of her mother, grave
with the weight of the household

1134 THE GARDENER One day I saw this naked boy sitting with legs outstretched. In the water his sister sat rubbing a drinking-pot with a handful of earth, turning it round and round. Near by a soft-haired lamb stood grazing along the bank. It came close to where the boy sat and suddenly bleated aloud, and the child started up and screamed. His sister left off cleaning her pot and ran up. She took up her brother in one arm and the lamb in the other, and dividing her caresses between them bound in one bond of affection the offspring of beast and man.

THE GARDENER
135
78
It was in May. The sultry noon
seemed endlessly long. The dry carth
gaped with thirst in the heat.
When I heard from the riverside a
voice calling, " Come, my darling !"
I shut my book and opened the
window to look out.
I say a big buffalo with mud.
stained hide standing near the river
sith placid, patient cyes; and a
youth, knce-deep in water, calling it
to its bath.
I smiled amused and felt a touch of
sweetness in my heart.

136
THE GARDENER
79
I OFTEN wonder where lie hidden
the boundaries of recognition between
man and the beast whose heart knows
no spoken language.
Through what primal paradise in a
remote morning of creation ran the
simple path by which their hearts
visited each other,
Those marks of their constant tread
have not been effaced though their
kinship has been long forgotten.
Yet suddenly in some wordless
music the dim memory wakes up
and the beast gazes into the man's
face with a tender trust, and the
man looks down into its eyes with
amused affection,
It seems that the two friends meet
masked, and vaguely know each other
through the disguise.

THE GARDENVER
137
80
WITI & glance of your eyes son
could plunder all the wealth songs
struck from poets' harps, fair woman!
But for their praises you hare no
ear, thcrcforc I come to praise yol
You could humble at your feet the
proudest heads in the world.
But it is your lored ones, unlinom
to fame, wliom you choose to worship,
therefore I worship you
The perfection of your arms would
add glory to kingly splendour with
their touch.
But you use them to step away
the dust, and to make clean your
humble home, therefore I am filled
with awe.

138
THE GARDENER
81
Why do you whisper so faintly in
my ears, O Death, my Death ?
When the flowers droop in the
evening and cattle come back to their
stalls, you stealthily come to
my
side
and speak words that I do not
understand.
Is this how you must woo and win
me with the opiate of drowsy murmur
and cold kisses, O Death, my Death ?
Will there be no proud ceremony
for our wedding ?
Will you not tie up with a wreath
your tawny coiled locks ?
Is there none to carry your banner
before you, and will not the night be
on fire with your red torch-lights,
O Death, my Death ?
I

THE GARDENER 139 Come with your conch-shells sounding, come in the sleepless night. Dress me with a crimson mantle, grasp my hand and take me. Let your chariot be ready at my door with your horses ncighing im. patiently. Raisc my veil and look at my face proudly, O Death, my Death 1

140
THE GARDENER
82
We are to play the game of death
to-night, my bride and I.
The night is black, the clouds in the
sky are capricious, and the waves are
raving at sea.
We have left our bed of dreams,
flung open the door and come out, my
bride and I.
We sit upon a swing, and the
storm winds give us a wild push from
behind.
My bride starts up with fear and
delight, she trembles and clings to my
breast.
Long have I served her tenderly.
I made for her a bed of flowers and
I closed the doors to shut out the rude
light from her eyes.
I kissed her gently on her lips and

TIIE GARDENER 111
whispered softly in her cars till slic
hall swooned in languor,
She was lost in the endless mist of
vague socctness.
She answered not to my touch, my
songs failed to arouse her.
To-night has come to us thic call of
the storm from the sild.
My bride has shivered and stood up,
she has clasped my hand and come
out.
Iler hair is flying in the wind, her
veil is fluttering, her garland rustics
orer her breast.
The push of death has strung her
into life.
We are face to face and heart to
heart, my bride and l.

142
THE GARDENER
83
SHE dwelt on the hillside by the edge
of a maize-field, near the spring that
flows in laughing rills through the
solemn shadows of ancient trees. The
women came there to fill their jars,
and travellers would sit there to rest
and talk. She worked and dreamed
daily to the tune of the bubbling
stream.
One evening the stranger came down
from the cloud-hidden peak; his locks
were tangled like drowsy snakes. We
asked in wonder, “Who are you ? "
He answered not but sat by the
garrulous stream and silently gazed at
the hut where she dwelt. Our heart
quaked in fe
when it wa:
Next mo

TIIE GARDENER
143
came to fetch water at the spring by
the deodar trees, they found the doors
open in her hut, but her voice was gone
and where tras her smiling face?
The empty jar lay on thc floor and lice
lamp had burnt itsell out in the
corner. No onc knots where shc had
fled to before it tris morning and the
stranger had gone.
In the month of May the sun grew
strong and the snot melted, and we
sat by the spring and rept. 110
wondered in our mind, "Is there a
spring in the land where she has gone
and where shc can fill her vessel in
thesc hot thirsty days ?" And so
asked each other in dismay, “Is there
a land beyond these hills where nc
live ?"
It was a summer night; the breeze
blety from the south; and I sat in her
deserted room where the lamp stood

142
THE GARDENER
83
SHE dwelt on the hillside by the edge
of a maize-field, near the spring that
flows in laughing rills through the
solemn shadows of ancient trees. The
women came there to fill their jars,
and travellers would sit there to rest
and talk. She worked and dreamed
daily to the tune of the bubbling
stream.
One evening the stranger came down
from the cloud-hidden peak; his locks
were tangled like drowsy snakes. We
asked in wonder, “Who are you?"
He answered not but sat by the
garrulous stream and silently gazed at
the hut where she dwelt. Our hearts
quaked in fear and we came back home
when it was night.
Next morning when the women
.

THE GARDENER
143
came to fetch water at the spring by
the dcodar trces, they found thc doors
open in her hut, but her voice was gone
and where was her smiling face?
The empty jar lay on the floor and her
lamp had burnt itself out in the
corner. No one knew where she had
fled to before it was morning and the
stranger had gone.
In the mo of May the sun grew
strong and the snowy melted, and we
sat by the spring and wept. We
wondered in our mind, “Is there a
spring in the land where she has gone
and where she can fill her vessel in
thcsc hot thirsty days?" And we
asked each other in dismay, “Is there
a land beyond these hills where wc
live?
It was a summer night; the breeze
blew from the south; and I sat in her
descrted room wherc the lamp stood
still unlit, When suddenly from

144
THE GARDENER
before my eyes the hills vanished like
curtains drawn aside. Ah, it is
she who comes. How are you, my
child ? Are you happy? But where
can you shelter under this open sky ?
And, alas! our spring is not here to
allay your
thirst."
Here is the same sky," she said,
only free from the fencing hills,
this is the same stream grown into a
river,--the same earth widened into
a plain.” “Everything is here," I
sighed, “only we are not." She
smiled sadly and said, “You are in
my heart." I woke
I woke up and heard the
babbling of the stream and the rustling

THE GARDENER
145
84
OVER the green and yellow rice-fields
sweep the shadows of the autumn
clouds followed by the swift-chasing
sun.
The bees forget to sip their honey ;
drunken with light they foolishly hore
and hum.
The ducks in the islands of the river
clamour in joy for mere nothing.
Let none go back home, brothers,
this morning, Ict none go to work.
Let us take the blue sky by storm
and plunder space as tre run.
Laughter floats in the air like foam
on the flood.
Brothers, let us squander our
morning in ſutile songs.
L

146
THE GARDENER
85
Who are you, reader, reading my
poems an hundred years hence ?
I cannot send you one single flower
from this wealth of the spring, one
single streak of gold from yonder
clouds.
Open your doors and look abroad.
From your blossoming garden gather
fragrant memories of the vanished
flowers of an hundred years before.
In the joy of your heart may you
fcel the living joy that sang one
spring morning, sending its glad voice
across an hundred years.

INDEX OF FIRST WORDS Fo. 00 $ 2 CO 40 25 . A wandering madman as seeking the touchstonc Ah me, why did they build my house. Ah, poch, the evening draws near. Amidst the rush and roar of life in umbelieving smile fits on your cyes At midnight the would-be ascetic announced Come as you are; do not loiter OTET your toilet Come to us, youth, tell us traly Day after day be comes and goes away Do not go, my love, without asking my Do not keep to yourself the secret of your heart, my friend Free me from the bonds of your sweetness, . 11 25 . 20 lenst . 24 my love 49 Ilunds cling to hands and eyes linger og late money upon your servant, my queen. Ile whispered. Jy lost, raise your cores 147 16 1 38 148 THE GARDENER No. 5 . → I am restless I asked nothing, only stood at the edge of the food I hold her hands and press her to my breast I hunt for the golden stag I long to speak the deepest words I love you, beloved I often wonder where lie hidden I plucked your flower, O world I remember a day in my childhood I run as a musk-deer runs in the shadow of the forest I spent my day on the scorching hot dust of the road I try to cave a wreath all the morning I was one among many women I tras walking by the road, I do not know why If you would be busy and fill your pitcher, 13 40 09 41 33 79 57 70 15 . . 04 39 50 14 . . come 12 02 3 74 78 05 78 55 . If you would have it so, I will end my singing In the dusky path of a dream I went to seek the love In the morning I cast my net into the sea. In the world's audience hall Infinite pealth is not yours Is that your call again? It was in May It was mid-day when you went away Lest I should know you too easily, you play with me Let your work be, bride Love, my heart longs day and night . > . . . 35 10 . .

INDEX OF FIRST WORDS 149 31 38 . . 43 69 . 7 59 . 58 8 61 . My heart, the bird of the wilderness My love, once upon a time your poet launched 8 great epic in his mind No, my friends, I shall never be an ascetic None lives for ever, brother O paad, superbly drunk O mother, the young Prince is to pass by our door Owoman, you are not merely the handiwork of God One morning in the flower garden a blind girl came Over the green and yellow rice-fields Peace, my heart, let the time for the parting be sweet Reverend sir, forgive this pair of sinners She dwelt on the hillside. Speak to me, my love Tell me il this be all true, my lover The day is not yet done, the fair is pot Over The tair was on before the tempple. The tame bird was in & cage. The workman and his wife from the West country 'The yellow bird sings in their tree Then finish the last song and let us leave Though the evening comes with slow steps To the guests that must go bid God's speed Traveller, must you go 1. Trust love even if it brings sorrow 83 82 76 6 17 51 67 45 . 27 150 THE GARDENER No. 82 26 . + Wc arc to play the gamc of death to-night What comes from your willing hands I take When I go alone at night to my love-tryst When she passcd by me with quick steps When the lamp went out by my bed Which the two sisters go to fetch water Where do you hurry with your basket Who are you, reader, reading my pocms Why did hc choose to come to my door Why did thic lamp go out ? Why do you put me to shame with a look ? Why do you sit therc and jingle your brace- Icts Why do you whisper so faintly in my cars With a glancc of your eyes you could plunder With days of hard travail I raised a temple Would you put your wrcath of fresh flowers on my neck, fair onc? 22 8 18 54 85 21 52 53 ► . . 28 81 80 72 37 . You are the evening cloud floating in the sky of my dreams You left me and went on your way You talked by the riverside patlı Your questioning cycs are sad 30 46 10 28 THE END Printed by R. KR. Clark, LIMITED, Edinburgh.

BY RABINDRANATH TAGORE GITANJALI (SONG OFFERINGS) A Collection of Prose Translations made by the Author from the Original Bengali WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY W. B. YEATS AND A TORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR BY W. ROTHENSTEIN Crown 8vo. 45. 6d, nel 9 TUE ATHENEUA! – Mr. Tagore's translations are of trance-like beauty ... The expanding seatment of some of the poems wins, even through the alien medium of our English prose, a rhythm which in its streogth and melody might recall familiar passages in the Psalms or Solomon's Song." THE NATION.--"Only the classics of myshcal hierature provide a standard by bich this handful of Song Offerings En be appraised or understood. From the point of view of pure lucrature, their high quality can hardly be contested ; yet it is not mere literary excellence which their author bas Bought, Dor is it bere ibat their deepest interest lies. They are Jenny, from finite to infinite-oblations, as their creator holds that all art should be, laid upon the altar of the world." THE DAILY NEIVs. One of the most significant books that hare appeared in our time They reveal a poet of undealable authority and a spuntual infuence singularly la touch with modern thought and modern needs." LONDON : MACHILLAN AND CO., LTD. t

OTHER WORKS BY
RABINDRANATH TAGORE
Pott 4to. 45. Od, nel.
THE CRESCENT MOON
CHILD-POEMS
Translated by the Author from the Original Bengali.
With 8 Illustrations in Colour.
Extra Crown 8vo.
SĀDHANĀ:
THE REALISATION OF LIFE
A SERIES OF LECTURES
8vo.
THE
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MAHARSHI
DEVENDRANATH TAGORE
(FATHER OF RABINDRANATH TAGORE}
With Introduction by EVELYN UNDERHILL.
LONDON: MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD).
2

No text on this page.

Front matter

The Gardener Rabindranath Tagore