I dive down into the depth of the ocean of forms,
hoping to gain the perfect pearl of the formless.
No more sailing from harbor to harbor 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 fathomless 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 forever,
and when it has sobbed out its last utterance,
lay down my silent harp at the feet of the silent.
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This is a very good poem. The platonic realm of forms as a real world that is temporal from which Tagore would leave. Existentially the world does have forms and dimensionality and it is difficult to know just what the trans-temporal or non material Universe experience would be like. As a Christian I'd rely on God to form the shape of that.
" I shall take this harp of my life.
I shall tune it to the notes of forever,
and when it has sobbed out its last utterance,
lay down my silent harp at the feet of the silent."
Ineffable lines like the rest.
Edited on Feb 14, 4:05 p.m. because ''.
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