MY OWN LITTLE SELF

Obstinate are the trammels but my heart aches when I try to break them.


Freedom is all I want ,but to hope for it 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.


He whom I enclose with my name is weeping in this dungeon. I am every busy building this wall all around;and as this wall goes up into the sky day to day I lose sight of my true being in its dark shadow.


I take pride in this great wall, and I plaster it with dust and sand lest hole should be left in this name; and for all the care I take I lose sight of my true being.


I came out alone on my way to my tryst. But who is this that follows me in the silent dark?


I move aside to avoid his presence but I escape him not.


He makes the dust rise from the earth with his swagger; he
adds his loud voice to every word that I utter.


He is my own little self, my lord but I m ashamed to come to thy door in his company.


By all means they try to hold me secure who love me in this world. But it is otherwise with thy love, which is greater than theirs, and thou keepest me free.


Lest I forget them they never venture to leave me alone. But day passes by after day and thou art not seen.

(Taken from GITANJALI, RABINDRANATH TAGORE, MACMILLAN India)