I liked the automatically generated subject line too much to delete it. The content, however, had to go. Rather than the usual introductory post, I’m snagging some poetry from Rabindranath Tagore. With the recent deaths of close family friend Bill Welch, Michael’s aunt Mary, and (to me) unknown Penn State student Joe Dado, I find Gitanjali to be à propos.
A few excerpted sections, translated by the author from the original Bengali:
I know that the day will come when my sight of this earth shall be lost,
and life will take its leave in silence, drawing the last curtain over my eyes.
Yet stars will watch at night,and morning rise as before,
and hours heave like sea waves casting up pleasures and pains.
When I think of this end of my moments, the barrier of the moments breaks
and I see by the light of death thy world with its careless treasures.
Rare is its lowliest seat, rare is its meanest of lives.
Things that I longed for in vain and things that I got
—let them pass.
Let me but truly possess the things that I ever spurned
The Time of Parting
At this time of my parting, wish me good luck, my friends! The
sky is flushed with the dawn and my path lies beautiful.
Ask not what I have with me to take there. I start on my journey
with empty hands and expectant heart.
I shall put on my wedding garland. Mine is not the red-brown
dress of the traveler, and though there are dangers on the way I
have no fear in mind.
The evening star will come out when my voyage is done and the
plaintive notes of the twilight melodies be struck up from the
When I go from hence let this be my parting word, that what I
have seen is unsurpassable.
I have tasted of the hidden honey of this lotus that expands on
the ocean of light, and thus am I blessed–let this be my parting
In this playhouse of infinite forms I have had my play and here
have I caught sight of him that is formless.
My whole body and my limbs have thrilled with his touch who is
beyond touch; and if the end comes here, let it come–let this be
my parting word.