Poem 3: How you sing

The original

I know not how thou singest, my master! I ever listen in silent amazement.

The light of thy music illumines the world. The life breath of thy music runs from sky to sky. The holy stream of thy music breaks through all stony obstacles and rushes on.

My heart longs to join in thy song, but vainly struggles for a voice. I would speak, but speech breaks not into song, and I cry out baffled. Ah, thou hast made my heart captive in the endless meshes of thy music, my master!

The revised

How you sing, my master!
I listen on, silent, amazed.
Your music lights the world;
its breath runs from sky to sky;
its holy stream breaks through stone and rushes on.
My heart longs to join in your song
but struggles in vain for voice. I would speak,
but speech breaks not into song, and I cry out, baffled.
Ah, you have made my heart captive
in the endless meshes of your music.

The reasoning

That first line is difficult; “I don’t know how you sing” doesn’t necessarily meaning what Tagore is trying to say. The words could easily mean something like, “I don’t know how you sing, when the world is as wearying as it is.” But the narrator (silent, amazed) is trying to say that he (assuming the male gender by conflating, for a moment, the narrator with the writer) is awe and cannot wrap his head around the beauty and power of the master’s song. “How you sing!” is a closer approximation of this than the ambiguous “I don’t know how you sing.” I tried italicizing the “how”: “I don’t know how you sing, my master!” That was a little better but not much, and I don’t like to rely on italics to make a point. The words, I think, ought to be clear enough without that additional formatting.

“Life breath”: enough to just say “breath.” This imagery is gorgeous: the music leaps across skies like sunlight, effortless like breathing.

“Stony obstacles”: again with the clunky, redundant phrasing. Just “stone” will do.

“Vainly struggles”: The word “vainly” is ambiguous; it can mean “out of vanity.” The phrase “in vain” is unambiguous. Perhaps I am nitpicking.

In the final line, I deleted the words “…my master” because they messed with the cadence of that last sentence. The repetition of the “my master” in the first line felt forced to me, and the primary color of the poem went from being in awe to fawning. That said, I can hear in Bangla how it must sound… when I have the chance to actually translate everything from scratch, I will revisit the matter of the second “my master.” For now, it goes.