Thursday, February 19, 2009
Poem by Tagore
He's there among the scented trees,
playing the notes he has taught you.
Too late for embarrassment, shy doe
nibbling at the forest's edge,
shawled in deep blue shadows.
He's calling you. The flower of your soul
is opening, little deer.
The river of scent will lead you
deep into the trees where he waits.
The bihanga also plays tonight --
do you hear his more distant flute?
Black bees carry the moon's luster
from flower to flower.
The rest of the grove will bloom tonight, I think.
How he looks at you, young animal.
He shames the moon with his own dark light.
Let's bow down before the young Lord,
the deep blue flowers at his feet.
Rabindranath Tagore ( 1861 – 1941, India )
This is another poem from the ancient bhakti tradition, where lover and beloved become one, just as human and divine are linked through mutual devotion. Bhaktis do not ask for anything in prayer, only to be allowed to worship their beloved in their attitudes and practice. In this, they are somewhat different from most western practitioners, who generally offer prayers in which they ask their Lord for something specific.
The shy flute player in this poem is Krishna, whose delicate flute music lures the soul to come away and be lost in the nectar of divine love play: "the flower of your soul is opening."
