Gitanjali 100

I dive down into the depth of the ocean

of forms, hoping to gain the perfect 

pearl of the formless.

    No more sailing from harbour to 

harbour with this my weather-beaten 

boat. The days are long passed when 

my sport was to be tossed on waves.

And now I am eager to die into 

the deathless.

Into the audience hall by the fathom 

less abyss where swells up the music of 

toneless strings I shall take this harp of 

my life.

I shall tune it to the notes of for ever, 

and, when it has sobbed out its last

utterance, lay down my silent harp at 

the feet of the silent.

From Gitanjali (Macmillan and Co., Limited, 1913) by Rabindranath Tagore. This poem is in the public domain.