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From a distance I thought
You are invincible
The whole world trembles by your might.
You are fearsome
Your raging flame
Burns in the breast of miserable men.
With your right hand you raise your missile high
And bring the thunder from the stormy sky
In fear I came to you with a trembling heart
From your frowns I apprehended imminent danger –
Your blow fell on my head
My whole frame fluttered
And I asked, ‘Do you have more in store?
Where is your last blow?’
And it finally struck.
This much, no more?
I lost my fear.
When you were aiming your blow
You appeared greater than me
But as soon as you struck me
You came down to my own level
You became small.
However great you appear to be
You are not greater than me
And I will say before I leave
I am greater than death.
Translation of the poem Mrityunjoy from the collection Parishesh by Rabindranath Tagore. Written on 17th Asad, 1339 BS (1932) when the poet was 71 by which time one by one he had suffered the losses of his two daughters, his wife and his youngest son – more than enough to devastate any man.
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