Two Songs of Tagore – X
Translated from the original Bangla by Sreejit Datta
Ᾱji bānglādeśer hridɑːy hote
(To listen to the original Bangla song, click here)
Today from the heart of Bengal Thou hast sprung forth spontaneously
At an hour unknown, assuming a peerless form, O Jananī!
O Mother! Our eyes are not satiated, tho’ we keep on looking at Thee!
The doors of Thy temple of gold are wide open presently.
On Thy right hand flashes the Khaḍga, while Thy left hand dispels fear,
That pair of Thine eyes brims with loving smile, the third eye blazes fire.
O Mother! What wondrous form today are we beholding of Thee?
The doors of Thy temple of gold are wide open presently.
Behind the clouds of Thy wild cascading hair hide lightning and thunder,
Thy aanchal shines brilliantly beneath this sky, O Sun-draped Mother!
O Mother! Our eyes are not satiated, tho’ we keep on looking at Thee!
The doors of Thy temple of gold are wide open presently.
When we didn’t look at Her face, neglectfully, we thought Mother suffers
And languishes in a corner of a crumbling hut, lonesome, in boundless misery.
Where are the signs of poverty in Thee now – where’s that waning smile?
The radiance of those feet today permeates the whole sky, verily.
O Mother! What wondrous form today are we beholding of Thee?
The doors of Thy temple of gold are wide open presently.
On this night of despair, deluge the earth with floods of pleasure,
Thy dauntless courage echoes in our hearts, O Stealer of Hearts, Our Mother!
O Mother! Our eyes are not satiated, tho’ we keep on looking at Thee!
The doors of Thy temple of gold are wide open presently.
Tumi je ceye ācho ākāś bhore
(To listen to the original Bangla song, click here)
’Tis You who are looking on all across the skies,
Watching me, day and night, with unblinking eyes.
When in this very light I’ll merge my own vision,
Your watching will only then reach its consummation;
The heavens are counting the days until that comes to pass.
The blooming of the spring flowers will be in vain,
If this single bud’s offering from me still does remain.
On that day will be blessèd this garland of stars –
Which You weave, lighting lamps across the worlds,
When, finally, this shadow round me will be here no more.
