Reflecting on the giving of gifts, today I would share this poem. The poem is by Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941). Tagore is perhaps, India’s most distinguished literary figure. He was the recipient of the Nobel Prize in literature in 1913.
Gift
O my love, what gift of mine
Shall I give you this dawn?
A morning song?
But morning does not last long—
The heat of the sun
Wilts it like a flower
And songs that tire
Are done.
O friend, when you come to my gate
At dusk What is it you ask?
What shall I bring you?
A light?
A lamp from a secret corner of my silent house?
But will you want to take it with you
Down the crowded street?
Alas, The wind will blow it out.
Whatever gifts are in my power to give you,
Be they flowers,
Be they gems for your neck,
How can they please you,
If in time they must surely wither,
Crack,
Lose lustre?
All that my hands can place in yours
Will slip through your fingers
And fall forgotten to the dust
To turn into dust.
Rather,
When you have leisure,
Wander idly through my garden in spring
And let an unknown, hidden flower’s scent startle you
Into sudden wondering—
Let that displaced moment
Be my gift.
Or if, as you peer your way down a shady avenue,
Suddenly, spilled
From the thick gathered tresses of evening’
A single shivering fleck of sunset-light stops you,
Turns your daydreams to gold,
Let that light be an innocent Gift.
Truest treasure is fleeting;
It sparkles for a moment, then goes.
It does not tell its name; its tune
Stops us in our tracks, its dance disappears
At the toss of an anklet.
I know no way to it—
No hand, nor word can reach it.
Friend, whatever you take of it,
On your own,
Without asking, without knowing, let that
Be yours.
Anything I can give you is trifling—
Be it a flower, or a song.
Tagore distinguishes between two sorts of gifts: those that are deliberately chosen and pointedly presented, such as flowers or gems, and those that are delightful, wondrous surprises, such as discoveries or insights that occur, as he puts it, in a “displaced moment.” The former, he suggests, are “trifling”; the latter, though clearly more dependent on the readiness and openness of the recipient than the giver, he calls “truest treasure.”
We are all seeking gifts. What gifts will you discover today?
I have discovered newly opened blooms on my Mandevilla.
