Freedom

 

Dunca Daniel

Freedom from fear is the freedom

I claim for you my motherland!

Freedom from the burden of the ages, bending your head,

breaking your back, blinding your eyes to the beckoning

call of the future;

Freedom from the shackles of slumber wherewith

you fasten yourself in night's stillness,

mistrusting the star that speaks of truth's adventurous paths;

freedom from the anarchy of destiny

whole sails are weakly yielded to the blind uncertain winds,

and the helm to a hand ever rigid and cold as death.

Freedom from the insult of dwelling in a puppet's world,

where movements are started through brainless wires,

repeated through mindless habits,

where figures wait with patience and obedience for the

master of show,

to be stirred into a mimicry of life.

Rabindranath Tagore

Gitanjali 60

 

Royce Bair

On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. The infinite sky is 

motionless overhead and the restless water is boisterous. On the seashore 

of endless worlds the children meet with shouts and dances.

They build their houses with sand, and they play with empty shells. With 

      withered leaves they weave their boats and smilingly float them on 

      the vast deep. Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.

They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets. Pearl-fishers 

      dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships, while children gather 

      pebbles and scatter them again. They seek not for hidden treasures, 

      they know not how to cast nets.

The sea surges up with laughter, and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach. 

      Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children, 

      even like a mother while rocking her baby’s cradle. The sea plays with 

      children, and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach.

On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. Tempest roams in the 

      pathless sky, ships are wrecked in the trackless water, death is abroad 

      and children play. On the seashore of endless worlds is the great 

      meeting of children.

RABINDRANATH TAGORE

Julgamento

  

Tommy Ingberg

Não julgues…

Habitas num recanto mínimo desta terra.

Os teus olhos chegam

Até onde alcançam muito pouco…

Ao pouco que ouves

Acrescentas a tua própria voz.

Mantém o bem e o mal, o branco e o negro,

Cuidadosamente separados.

Em vão traças uma linha

Para estabelecer um limite.

Se houver uma melodia escondida no teu interior,

Desperta-a quando percorreres o caminho.

Na canção não há argumento,

Nem o apelo do trabalho…

A quem lhe agradar responderá,

A quem lhe agradar não ficará impassível.

Que importa que uns homens sejam bons

E outros não o sejam?

São viajantes do mesmo caminho.

Não julgues,

Ah, o tempo voa

E toda a discussão é inútil.

Olha, as flores florescem à beira do bosque,

Trazendo uma mensagem do céu,

Porque é um amigo da terra;

Com as chuvas de Julho

A erva inunda a terra de verde,

e enche a sua taça até à borda.

Esquecendo a identidade,

Enche o teu coração de simples alegria.

Viajante,

Disperso ao longo do caminho,

O tesouro amontoa-se à medida que caminhas.

Rabindranath Tagore

Gitanjali 35

 

Cathsimard

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;

   Where knowledge is free;

   Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;

   Where words come out from the depth of truth;

   Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;

   Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;

   Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action

   Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

RABINDRANATH TAGORE

Come As You Are

Come as you are,
tarry not over your toilet.

If your braiding has come loose, 

if the parting of your hair be not straight, 

if the ribbons of your bodice be not fastened, 

do not mind.

Come as you are, 

tarry not over your toilet.

Come with quick steps over the grass.

If your feet are pale with the dew, 

if your anklets slacken, 

if pearls drop out of your chain, 

do not mind.

Come with quick steps over the grass.

Do you see the clouds wrapping the sky?

Flocks of cranes fly up from the further riverbank and 

fitful gusts of wind rush over the heath.

The anxious cattle run to their stalls in the village.

Do you see the clouds wrapping the sky?

In vain you light your toilet lamp; 

it flickers and goes out in the wind.

Surely, 

who would know that 

with lamp-black your eyelids are not touched? 

For your eyes are darker than rain clouds.

In vain you light your toilet lamp; 

it goes out.

Come as you are, 

tarry not over your toilet.

If the wreath is not woven, who cares? 

If the wrist-chain has not been tied, 

leave it by.

The sky is overcast with clouds; 

it is late.

Come as you are, 

tarry not over your toilet.

Rabindranath Tagore

Poem 12 in Gitanjali

Carlo Cafferini






I have been traveling long

My way is also long

When I had first started it was early dawn.

From planet to planet, from star to star

I have left my footprints along a winding path

Through so many hills and dales

Through so many lands.

To come close one has to travel far

It is very difficult indeed

But not to one who is straight at heart.

Traversing many alien countries

The traveler comes to his own land at last

Only after wandering in the outside world

One can find one’s own inner God.

To say, ‘Here you are’,

I looked in so many places, so many ways I walked

But you are there everywhere in this world

Which we flood with tears

Crying, ‘Where are you, O where!’

Rabindranath Tagore

Poem 14

in, The Collection Gitimalya

Transcreation by Kumud Biswas

Encontrei outra tradução, que partilho aqui:

The time that my journey takes is long and the way of it long.

I came out on the chariot of the first gleam of light, and pursued my
voyage through the wildernesses of worlds leaving my track on many a star and planet.

It is the most distant course that comes nearest to thyself,
and that training is the most intricate which leads to the utter simplicity of a tune.

The traveler has to knock at every alien door to come to his own,
and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end.

My eyes strayed far and wide before I shut them and said `Here art thou!'

The question and the cry `Oh, where?' melt into tears of a thousand
streams and deluge the world with the flood of the assurance `I am!'



Rabindranath Tagore
in, Gitanjali
Poem 12
Translation by Bertram Kottmann

O CAMINHANTE

Não me perguntes 

O que é salvação 

Ou onde a encontrar, 

Não sou investigador, mas apenas poeta... 

Vivo agarrado a esta terra. 

Perante mim corre o rio da vida... 

Levando na sua corrente 

Luz e sombra, bem e mal, 

Ganhos e perdas, lágrimas e risos, 

Coisas que se entrelaçam 

E se esquecem! 

Sobre as suas águas 

A manhã chega em profundos matizes, 

O ocaso estende o seu véu carmesim, 

E os raios lunares caem como o suave tacto de uma mãe. 

Na noite escura 

As estrelas elevam as suas orações; 

Sobre as suas ondas 

A madhuri oferece os seus dons, 

E as aves soltam os seus cantos. 

Quando ao ritmo das ondas 

Silencioso dança o meu coração 

Então nesse ritmo 

Estão os meus limites e a minha liberdade. 

Não desejo conservar nada 

Nem apegar-me a nada. 

Desatando os nós da união e da separação, 

Quero flutuar com o Todo 

Içando as minhas velas ao vento que paira. 

Oh, grande Caminhante! 

Para ti abrem-se os dez caminhos 

Nos confins da terra, 

E não tens templo, nem céu, 

Nem limite final. 

A cada passo tocas o chão sagrado. 

Caminhando a teu lado, oh, Incansável! 

Encontro a salvação 

No tesouro do caminho. 

Em luz e sombra, 

Nas páginas sempre novas da criação, 

Em cada novo instante de dissolução 

Ouve-se o ritmo das tuas danças e canções. 

Rabinadranath Tagore