SALUTATION
RABINDRANATH TAGORE
Rabindranath, O
Aurobindo, bows to thee!
O friend, my country’s
friend, O voice incarnate, free,
Of
Nor pelf or careless
comfort is for thee; thou’st sought
No petty bounty, petty
dole; the beggar’s bowl
Thou ne’er hast held
aloft. In watchfulness thy soul
Hast thou e’er held for bondless full perfection’s birth
For which, all night and
day, the god in man on earth
Doth strive and strain
austerely; which in solemn voice
The poet sings in thund’rous poems; for which rejoice
Stout hearts to march on
perilous paths; before whose flame
Refulgent, ease bows
down its head in humbled shame
And death forgetteth fear; –that gift supreme
To thee from Heaven’s
own hand, that full-orb’d fadeless dream
That’s thine, thou’st asked for as thy
country’s own desire
In quenchless hope, in
words with truth’s white flame
In infinite faith, hath
God in heaven heard at last
This
prayer of thine? And so, sounds there, in blast on blast
His
victory-trumpet?
And puts he, with love austere,
In thy right hand,
today, the fateful lamp and drear
Of sorrow, whose light
doth pierce the country’s agelong gloom,
And in the infinite
skies doth steadfast shine and loom,
As
doth the Northern star? O victory and Hail!
Where is the coward who
will shed tears today, or wail
Or quake in fear? And
who’ll belittle truth to seek
His
own small safety?
Where’s the spineless creature weak
Who will not in thy pain
his strength and courage find?
O wipe away those tears,
O thou of craven mind!
The fiery messenger that
with the lamp of God
Hath come–where is the
king who can with chain or rod
Chastise him? Chains
that were to bind salute his feet
And prisons greet him as
their guest with welcome sweet,
The pall of gloom that
wraps the sun in noontide skies
In dim eclipse, within a
moment slips and flies
As doth a shadow,
Punishment? It ever falls
On him who is no man,
and everyday hath feared,
Abashed, to gaze On truth’s face with
a free man’s eye
And call a wrong a
wrong; on him who doth deny
His
manhood
shamelessly before his own
compeers,
And c’er
disowns his God-given rights, impelled by fears
And greeds;
who on his degradation prides himself,
Who
traffics in his country’s shame; whose bread,
whose pelf
Are his own mother’s gore; that coward sits and quails
In
jail without reprieve, outside
all human jails.
When I behold the face, ‘mid
bondage, pain and wrong
And black indignities, I hear the soul’s great
song
Of rapture unconfined,
the chant the pilgrim sings
In which exultant hope’s immortal splendour rings,
Solemn voice and calm,
and heart-consoling, grand
Of imperturbable death,
the spirit of Bharat-land,
O poet, hath placed upon
thy fate her eyes a fire
With love, and struck
vast chords upon her vibrant lyre,–
Wherein there is no note of sorrow, shame or fear,
Or
penury or want.
And so today I hear
The ocean’s restless
roar borne by the stormy wind,
Th’ impetuous fountain’s dance riotous, swift and blind
Bursting its rocky cage,–the voice of thunder deep
Awakening, like a clarion call, the clouds
asleep
Amid this song triumphant, vast, that
encircles me,
Rabindranath, O Aurobindo,
bows to thee!
And then to Him I bow Who
in His sport doth make
New worlds in fiery dissolution’s awful wake,
From death awakes new life; in danger’s bosom rears
Prosperity; and sends his devotee in tears,
‘Mid desolation’s
thorns, amid his foes to fight
Alone and empty-handed in the gloom of night;
In divers tongues, in divers ages speaketh
ever
In every mighty deed, in every great endeavour
And true experience; “Sorrow’s
naught, howe’er drear.
And pain is naught, and
harm is naught,
and naught all fear;
The king’s a shadow,–punishment
is but a breath;
Where is the tyranny of wrong,
and where is death?
O fool, O coward, raise
thy head that’s bowed in fear,
I am, thou art, and
everlasting truth is here.”
(Translated from original Bengali by KSHITISHCHANDRA
SEN)