The Final Poem

Sonia Nishat Amin

Original poem: “Shesher Kabita” by Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941)

Translated by: Sonia Nishat Amin 

 

Can you hear the sound of the passage of Time?

Its ever receding chariot

Awakens the pulse of life in the cosmos –

The stars cry out from the bosom of darkness

Crushed underneath its wheels.

Ah friend,

Speeding Time

Has cast its net and drawn me in

For a bold and unknown journey

Further and further away from you.

Many deaths have I traversed to reach the pinnacle

Of this new dawn.

The rushing wheels scatter my old form in the wind.

There is no turning back,

If you gaze from afar

You would not know me.

Farewell, my friend.

On a spring evening-

In the hour of leisure when all one’s work is done,

When sighs from the shore of the past 

Float down on the breeze,

And the air is tender with the weeping of softly falling bakul–

Look deep inside that moment-

You will see a part of me remaining behind

At the edge of your heart;

On a languorous evening

Perhaps it will glow;

Perhaps it will assume the form of an unnamed dream.

Yet, it is not unreal-

But my deepest truth, a part of my deathless self-

My love.

That truth I leave behind, changeless offering

At your altar

While I am swept by the tide of change

In the passage of Time.

Farewell, my friend. 

You have not been diminished in any measure.

From this earthen clay, if you chose to mould

A form divine

Let your evenings be haloed by its worship.

The tired, clumsy touch of my mundane existence

Will not impede the sacred ritual;

The fervor of my wants and passions

Will not spoil the blossoms on the plate of offerings.

I will not blend the dust of my life, its ashes and tears

In the pitcher of nectar you gathered

For the festival within.

Perhaps, even now, with  your memories (of me)

You create verses dreamlike and sublime.

Let these be ethereal then,

Devoid of burden and care.

Farewell, my friend.

 

Do not grieve for me.

For me, the wide world awaits all around

For me, are the tasks yet not done.

My cup has not run dry-

To fill emptiness evermore

Is my lasting vow.

 

If someone bides his time anxiously for me

I shall be gratified.

He who gathers tuberoses on the night of the full moon 

To deck the chamber on a moonless one,

Who with compassion in his eyes

Can see me in my entirety – failings and radiance combined-

To him do I turn now 

And offer myself in a ritual of sacrifice.

You have endless right over what I gave;

Here now, is the gift  

Of my sad, lovely moments-

Painfully wrung from my heart

Drunk with cupped hands, drop by drop.

Oh friend beyond comparison, rich beyond measure

What I gave was but your own gift to me.

The more you received the more indebted I became.

Farewell, my friend.

 

Note for readers: Rabindranath Tagore’s novel Sesher Kobita (The Last Poem) was published in 1929. It has assumed a cult status as a narrative on love, romance and denial across several generations of Bengali readers. The novel is set in early 20th century Calcutta and the hill station – Shillong. Calcutta was the epicentre of bhadralok culture (Bengali middle class English educated gentlemen) and Shillong was one of their favourite resorts.

Amit is a renowned poet who meets Labonya, the quintessence of Tagore’s notion of modern Bengali womanhood. They meet in the picturesque surroundings of the hill resort and fall in love. After journeying through the intense phases of an idealized, romantic love, and reaching an exalted height, they decide to part. Amit tells Labonya that marriage is antithetical to romantic love; marriage with its everyday demands, cannot sustain the sublimity that feeds romantic love. Labonya, says Amit, is like a flowing stream that does not stagnate; whereas Ketaki, the woman Amit decides to marry is like the pitcher from which one drinks everyday to sustain mundane existence. Labonya in her turn decides to marry Shobhonlal, the stolid, steadfast admirer. 

The poem above occurs at the end of the book and is Labonya’s fareweel message to Amit.