Boek · Gitanjali
Pagina 65 van 83
Auteur: Rabindranath Tagore
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He it is who weaves the web of this maya in evanescent hues of
gold and silver, blue and green, and lets peep out through the
folds his feet, at whose touch I forget myself.
Days come and ages pass, and it is ever he who moves my heart in
many a name, in many a guise, in many a rapture of joy and of
sorrow.
73.
Deliverance is not for me in renunciation. I feel the embrace of
freedom in a thousand bonds of delight.
Thou ever pourest for me the fresh draught of thy wine of various
colours and fragrance, filling this earthen vessel to the brim.
My world will light its hundred different lamps with thy flame
and place them before the altar of thy temple.
No, I will never shut the doors of my senses. The delights of
sight and hearing and touch will bear thy delight.
Yes, all my illusions will burn into illumination of joy, and all
my desires ripen into fruits of love.
74.
The day is no more, the shadow is upon the earth. It is time that
I go to the stream to fill my pitcher.
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