Foreword to Rabindranath Tagore, Show Yourself to My Soul
  
  
During the rediscovery and reassessment of Rabindranath Tagore that has unfolded in the English-speaking world over the last two decades, we have been slow to work round to Gitanjali.  This may seem surprising, given that it was for the English book of that name that Tagore won the Nobel Prize.  But with the English Gitanjali, and other books in that vein such as The Gardener and Fruit-Gathering, an image of Tagore became fixed that he himself came to regard as restricting; and Bengalis - and those who have learnt Bengali - have shared his frustration, have wished to show, through translation of a wide variety of poems, that Tagore was by no means exclusively a devotional, mystical or introspective poet.
 
Nevertheless, a true and complete presentation of Tagore ultimately has to give a special place to the trilogy of books that were named, in Bengali, Gitanjali, Gitimalya and Gitali.  In these beautifully poised and subtle songs and lyric poems, we find Tagore at his most inward.  They are his private, humble, lucid and sensitive dialogue with God – universal precisely because they are so personal.
 
Until recently, it has been hard for the non-Bengali reader to hear that dialogue, except through the filter of Tagore’s own English versions, which often conceal as much as they reveal.  But with Joe Winter’s metrical translations of the Bengali Gitanjali  (Writers Workshop, Calcutta, 1998, and Anvil Press Poetry, London, 2000), and now with the simpler, freer, unrhymed translations by Brother James that are offered here, we are given a new opportunity.  In the case of Brother James’s translations, I would say that the opportunity is also a unique privilege, for they are the fruit of long and deep reflection on the poems, over many years of living and working among the people of Bengal.
 
Brother James’s translations – of Gitanjali and other books – were first published in the 1980s by the University Press Ltd., which has been such a heroic pioneer in the publication of English-language books in Bangladesh.  But these editions have normally been available only to visitors to that country. 
 
In this new edition for a wider readership, which I hope will be followed by Brother James’s other books, readers will find an accuracy, a simplicity, a patience, a beauty and a sheer love of the poems that will bring them to the heart of Tagore.  They will come away from the book with numerous phrases and images that will stay with them; and they will find themselves returning to favorite poems, to those that strike a particular echo in their own inner lives.  In my own reading of the typescript, I jotted down phrases such as ‘Make my heart blossom out…’, ‘Take a light from the absence-fire…’, ‘I can endure still more blows…’, ‘the monsoon’s human face…’, ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of…’, ‘Songs have taught me so much…’ – and many more.  I could list my favorite poems too; but maybe that choice should remain, as for other readers of this book, a private matter.
 
For me, Brother James’s achievement is summed up in lines from the third poem in the book:
 
             What was distant, Friend
                  You brought near.
             The stranger
                  You made my brother, my sister.
 
And what is the purpose of translation, other than that? 
 
Northumberland,  March 2002
 
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