On your golden platter

On your golden platter today
I'll arrange the teardrops
of my sorrow;

O Mother, I'll string from these
a necklace of pearls for You.

At Your feet the sun and moon
combine to form Your garland.

On Your breast
my jewels of sorrow
will be embellished.

Wealth and crops are Your gifts;
tell me what You'll do.

If You want to enrich me, do so;
If there is anything you want to take,
take it.

Sorrow is a commonplace thing in my house.
You recognize it, as a genuine jewel;

You buy it with Your grace;
This is what I take pride in.

from Gitanjali
by Rabindranath Tagore
tr. James Talarovic