Since last evening,
this song
is only jingling in my mind -
'It is playing, It is playing, the Delightful Harp is playing.'1
No way
I'm able to forget it -
It is playing, It is playing, the Delightful Harp is playing.
In the midst of a hyaline lotus,
In the midst of a moonlit night,
In the midst of pitch-black clouds,
In the midst of the fragrance of flowers,
I verily hear the Harp's Rhythm -
It's Playing to the Beats of Love2.
Last night,
as I was standing on the roof and watching the stars,
my mind
fully admitted:
'It is Playing, It is Playing, the Delightful Harp is Playing.'
This is not a poet's rhapsody -
this is not a figure of speech -
filling the Sky,
filling the Time,
day and night
the Music is Playing.
When in the air,
waves play with waves
in a beautiful manner,
then
that wondrous union of theirs,
and that beauty -
our eyes cannot see;
within our ears,
That Play
Reveals Itself
in the Form of Songs.
Again in the sky -
when ripples of light
in streams after streams,
in amazing rhythms
keep dancing -
then That Beautiful Play -
our ears
do not receive
any news of That -
within our eyes,
It Reveals Itself,
with a particular Form.
If we were able to welcome
even This Play of the Space
through the Portal of our Ears,
then
This Flourish of the Harp of the Universe
we would have been able to recognize
as
songs.
This huge, immense Flooding
of the Song of the Universe -
when It Overflows
the Whole Sky
and
Rushes towards our mind,
then
we cannot receive It
merely through
a single channel;
we need to open up
several channels -
through our eyes,
through our ears,
through our nose,
through our organ of touch -
from several sides
we receive It
in several ways.
This Great, Harmonious Music
we see,
hear,
touch,
smell,
taste.
Even though we see with our eyes
much of This Universe -
we don't hear It with our ears -
still,
since antiquity
many poets
have called This Universe
a song only.
Thinkers of Ancient Greece
have described
the coming and going
of
heavenly bodies -
their constellations -
through Space,
as a Song from the World of Stars only.
With the Arrangement of Forms in This World, This Universe -
poets have drawn parallels
with Art -
only very few times;
one reason of that is
in This Universe,
there is a continuous restlessness of Motion.
But, not just that -
within It,
there is a deeper reason.
One who draws pictures,
(s)he needs a canvas,
(s)he needs a brush,
(s)he needs paint;
her/his external arrangements
are many.
After that,
when (s)he starts drawing -
then,
her/his opening lines
do not show us
the joy
of the whole picture;
once many lines
and
many colors
come together,
then only
we get a hint
of the Final Product.
After that,
once the drawing is over,
even if the painter leaves -
that picture
keeps standing still -
with the painter,
it does not have any special relationship
anymore.
But, (s)he who sings -
all the arrangements of singing
are verily within him/her;
(s)he whose joy it is,
it is her/his tune only;
even the lyrics are hers/his -
none of these are external.
The Heart - as if -
expresses Itself
totally immediately;
It does not have
any intervention
of materials, as well.
This is why,
although
singing keeps waiting
for a certain completeness,
yet
its every incomplete tune - as if -
keeps expressing the Heart.
Not only is it the case that
This Expression of the Heart
does not have
any intervention of materials -
the lyrics thing is an intervention too -
because we need to think to understand their meaning -
but in singing,
even to understand that meaning
has no necessity;
even if there is no meaning
only the tune says
what is to say -
in an indescribable manner.
Beyond that -
there is not
even a moment of separation
between the song, and the singer;
if the singer departs -
leaving the song incomplete -
the song, too, leaves
verily, with him/her.
With the singer's life,
with his/her energy,
with his/her joy,
the tune of song
expresses itself
verily,
in a completely united way,
all the time.
Wherever there is singing,
there, verily, is the singer;
there is no exception to this.
Even This Song of the Universe -
from Its Singer -
is not separate - even for a moment.
This Song -
It is not even made of
The Singer's external arrangements.
It is completely His/Her Psyche,
within His/Her Breath,
Rising with the Form of His/Her Joy.
This Song -
Being Fully Complete,
Resides in His/Her Heart;
and yet,
It is Manifesting Itself
gradually,
in the Form of Expressions;
but Its Each Melody verily Contains
the Advent of That Complete Song;
It is Going About,
Connecting
one melody with another,
in Joy.
When we do not receive
any effable meaning
from This Song of the Universe,
even then
to our mind,
Its Expression
Does Not Encounter
any obstruction.
This is verily because
It is an Immediate Revelation
to mind,
of Mind.
In the Gaayatrii hymn,
that is why we hear
That Effulgence of the Progenitor of the Universe,
His Radiance,
His Energy -
through the Earth,
through the Purgatory,
and
through the Heaven -
are only Overflowing,
and
That One Energy of His -
His only -
is continuously Radiating
in our mind
as Intellect.
It is only Rising,
It is only Projecting
melody after melody,
tune after tune.
Last night -
eleventh of the new moon -
filling the deep darkness
of a solitary night,
That Harpist was Playing
His Delightful Harp;
at the End of the World,
I was listening -
standing alone;
in That Flourish,
all the Worlds of Stars
in the Infinite Sky
were Reverberating -
were Being Connected,
in the Wonderful, Silent Music.
Afterwards,
when I went to bed,
then
I fell asleep with this assurance in mind that,
when I shall remain unaware in sleep -
even then,
That Awake Harpist -
His night-time Play of Harp
shall not Cease -
even then,
That Rhythm of Sound of His -
the Rhythm that is Making the World of Stars Dance,
it is in That very Rhythm
that
in this theater of my body - solitary from sleep -
the Dance of Life shall Continue;
the Dance of my Heart shall not Stop;
Blood shall Dance in all my organs;
and
millions of live cells -
all over my body -
shall keep vibrating
verily with the Rhythm
of That Music of the Assembly of Heavenly Bodies.
'It is Playing, It is Playing, the Delightful Harp is Playing.'
Again,
our Master
has Given
in our arms too,
a small harp -
one each3.
His Wish -
we too,
learn to play with Him -
attuning ourselves with Him.
In His Assembly,
sitting next to Him,
we shall accompany Him a little -
This is His Endearing Desire.
The Harp of Life is Small,
but
He has Mounted so many strings in It!
Setting up
all the strings
to proper tune -
is that a small thing!
If this one works,
then
that one does not;
if the mind works,
the body starts complaining;
if one day the tempo works,
then another day
it goes down.
But, it will not do to give up.
One day,
from His Mouth -
we shall have to hear these words -
'wow, son, well-done.'
The Harp of this Life
one day,
shall play
all of Her Symphony
at His Feet -
'crooning, and crooning.'4
For now,
only this much
we shall have to keep in mind that,
we need to set up all the strings rather tautly -
any laxity
makes them
jangle and clank.
Just like
we shall need to fix the Harp tautly,
even then,
we shall need to keep It free -
if something obstructs It from top,
It Refuses to Play again.
If you want
the pure melody -
only that much -
then watch out,
may the strings not catch any dirt,
may the strings not gather any rust;
and
every day,
pray whilst sitting at His Feet -
'My Teacher! Please Take me from dissonance to consonance.'
5 Paush 1315
(December 19, 1908)
Bengali original: http://www.tagoreweb.in/Render/ShowContent.aspx?ct=Essays&bi=72EE92F5-BE50-4057-6E6E-0F7410664DA3&ti=72EE92F5-BE50-43D7-2E6E-0F7410664DA3&ch=1