Theme: Love

The Last Poem

Can you hear the sounds of the journey of time?
Its chariot always in a flight
Raises heartbeats in the skies
And birth-pangs of stars
In the darkness of space
Crushed by its wheels.
My friend!
I have been caught in the net
Cast by that flying time
It has made me its mate
In its intrepid journey
And taken me in its speeding chariot
Far away from you.
To reach the summit of this morning
I seem to have left behind many deaths
My past names seem to stream
In the strong wind
Born of the chariot's speed.
There is no way to turn back;
If you see me from afar
You will not recognize me my friend,

If in your lazy hours without any work
The wind of springtime
Brings back the sighs from the past
As the cries of shedding spring flowers
Fill the skies
Please see and search
If in a corner of your heart
You can find any remnants of my past;
In the evening hours of fading memories
It may shed some light
Or take some nameless form
As if in a dream.
Yet it is not a dream
It is my truth of truths
It is deathless
It is my love.
Changeless and eternal
I leave it as my offering to you
In the ever changing flow of time
Let me drift.
My friend, farewell!

You have not sustained any loss.
If you have created an immortal image
Out of my mortal frame
May you devote your self
In the worship of that idol
As the recreation of your remaining days
Let your offerings not be mired
By the touch of my earthly passion.
The plate that you will arrange with utmost care
For the feast of your mind
I will not mix it with anything
That does not endure
And is wet with my tears.
Now you will perhaps create
Some dreamy creation out of my memories
Neither shall I feel its weight
Nor will you feel obliged.
My friend, farewell!

Do not mourn for me,
You have your work, I have my world.
My vessel has not become empty
To fill it is my mission.
I shall be pleased
If anybody keeps waiting
Anxiously for me.
But now I shall offer myself to him
Who can brighten the darkness with light
And see me as I am
Transcending what is good or bad.
Whatever I gave you
It is now your absolute possession.
What I have to give now
Are the hourly offerings from my heart.
You are incomparable, you are rich!
Whatever I gave you
It was but your gift
You made me so much indebted
As much as you took.
My friend, farewell!

Translation of the poem that concludes the novel 'Shesher Kabita' by Rabindranath Tagore. It is also included as Biday in the collection Mohua. The original in Bengali script may be viewed at


More By  :  Kumud Biswas

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