Does the beauty of music remain locked within the bounds of language? Does the serenity of a prayer remain hostage to the literature of the scriptures? While we think and dream in words, can the inspiration transcend the limits of mere language? Do love, faith and hope have any language at all?
I firmly believe beauty – that which brings peace to the heart, is limitless and transcendental. It is only when it is put down in paper that language and literature builds up boundaries. Translation is therefore a hazardous business.
Men worthier and more capable have translated the works of India’s first Nobel laureate, Rabindranath Tagore. This is my humble attempt - an amateur’s attempt to convey the simplicity and purity of a prayer at dawn.
In danger, that thou will
protect,
I pray thee not,
Grant only that fear I can overcome.
In grief, that thou will console,
I pray thee not,
Grant only that despondence I can outrun.
If succour be not at hand,
Let not my strength
slacken,
When losses I do meet,
And ill fortune be at hand,
Grant only that cynicism I can overturn.
At sea, that thou be my saviour,
I pray thee not,
Grant only that the waves I can overcome.
That thou relieve me of my
burden,
I pray thee not,
Grant only that distress I can outrun.
Reverentially, in days of
happiness,
I shall sing thy paeans,
When darkness falls,
And misery unfolds,
May my faith in thee fore’er remain firm.
Translated from the original Poem (in Bengali) titled “Atmatran”
from the “Gitanjali” collection by Rabindranath
Tagore
