Invocation

O how many unknown things
you have made known to me.
In how many places
you have found room for me.

What was distant, friend,
you brought near.
The stranger
you made my brother, my sister.

I often wonder
what will follow death
when I leave my old dwelling.
The trouble is I forget
that among new things
you are old, eternal.

What was distant, friend,
you brought near.
The stranger
you made my brother, my sister.
What was strange
you made familiar.

In life, in death, in your vast domain,
whenever, wherever you take me.
You, my eternal familiar one,
will tell me everything.

from Gitanjali
by Rabindranath Tagore
tr. James Talarovic