English poem
Gitanjali, XXVIII (Obstinate are the trammels, but my…)
Obstinate are the trammels, but my heart aches when I try to break them.
Freedom is all I want, but to hope for it I feel ashamed.
I am certain that priceless wealth is in thee, and that thou art my best friend, but I have not the heart to sweep away the tinsel that fills my room.
The shroud that covers me is a shroud of dust and death; I hate it, yet hug it in love.
My debts are large, my failures great, my shame secret and heavy; yet when I come to ask for my good, I quake in fear lest my prayer be granted.
More by Rabindranath Tagore
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- Gitanjali, XXVI (He came and sat by my…)
- Gitanjali, XXVII (Light, oh where is the light?…)
- Gitanjali, XXX (I came out alone on my…)
- Gitanjali, XXXII (By all means they try to…)
- Gitanjali, XXXIV (Let only that little be left…)
- Gitanjali, XXXIX (When the heart is hard and…)