Ungrateful Sorrow
The Ungrateful Sorrow
by Rabindranath Tagore
Translated by Snehendu Bikash Kar
At dawn, shey(1) left
My mind consoled me:
" Everything is Maya(2)".
Angrily I replied:
"How can you say that?
Here's this sewing box on the table,
that flower-pot on the terrace,
this monogrammed fan on the bed.
Are all these things unreal? Maya ?
My mind said: " Think again."
I retorted: " You better stop.
Look at this storybook,
with a hairpin among its pages,
signaling the rest is unread;
Are all these things unreal?
If not, why should "shey"
be unreal? or Maya?"
My mind remains silent.
A friend arrived and says:
"That which is good is real,
it is never non-existent;
The world cherishes it in her chest
like precious jewels in a necklace."
In anger, I replied: "How do you know?
Is a human body not good?
Then why did that body perish?
Where did that body go ?"
Like a small boy in rage
hits his mother,
I began to strike at everything
that gave me shelter.
And I screamed:
" This world is treacherous."
Suddenly, I was startled.
It seemed like someone admonished me:
" You- ungrateful! "
I peered outside my window
at the crescent moon
hidden behind the banyan tree,
Its foliage dancing in gentle wind
As if my dear departed is smiling
and playing hide-and-seek.
From the depth of night
punctuated by scattered stars
came a rebuke:
"When I let you grasp me
you call it a Maya- a deception,
and yet when I remain concealed,
you hold on to me with such conviction?"
(1): Tagore uses the word "shey" which in Bengali can be either she or he
(2): "Maya" is an illusion.
"The Ungrateful Sorrow" by Rabindranath Tagore,
Collected Works, Vol-26, p. 105. )
Copyright © Snehendu Kar | Year Posted 2017
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