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Author Topic: Collection of Poems by Rabindranath Tagore  (Read 4920 times)

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Offline pramanisa

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Collection of Poems by Rabindranath Tagore
« on: July 01, 2007, 06:21:48 AM »
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  • The Gardener

    If you would have it so,
    I will end my singing.

    If it sets your heart aflutter,
    I will take away my eyes from your face.

    If it suddenly startles you in your walk,
    I will step aside and take another path.

    If it confuses you in your flower-weaving,
    I will shun your lonely garden.

    If it makes the water wanton and wild,
    I will not row my boat by your bank.

    Offline pramanisa

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    Re: Collection of Poems by Rabindranath Tagore
    « Reply #1 on: July 01, 2007, 06:23:05 AM »
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  • Excerpts From The Gardener

    I try to wreath all the morning, but the flowers slip and they drop out.
    You sit there watching me in secret through the corner of your prying eyes.
    Ask those eyes, darkly planning mischief, whose fault it was.

    I try to sing a song, but in vain.
    A hidden smile trembles on your lips; ask of it the reason of my failure.
    Let your smiling lips say on oath
    how my voice lost itself in silence like a drunken bee in the lotus

    It is evening, and the time for the flowers to close their petals.
    Give me leave to sit by your side,
    and bid my lips to do the work that can be done in silence
    and in the dim light of stars.

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Do not keep to yourself the secret of your heart, my friend!
    Say it to me, only to me in secret.
    You who smile so gently, softly whisper, my heart will hear it, not my ears.

    The night is deep, the house is silent, the birds' nests are shrouded with sleep.
    Speak to me through hesitating tears, through faltering smiles,
    through sweet shame and pain, the secret of your heart!

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Speak to me, my love! Tell me in words what you sang.
    The night is dark. The stars are lost in clouds. The
    wind is sighing through the leaves.
    I will let loose my hair. My blue cloak will cling round me like night. I
    will clasp your head to my bosom; and there in the sweet loneliness murmur
    on your heart. I will shut my eyes and listen. I will not look in your face.
    When your words are ended, we will sit still and silent. Only the trees will whisper
    in the dark.
    The night will pale. The day will dawn. We shall look at each other's eyes and go
    on our different paths.
    Speak to me, my love! Tell me in words what you sang

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Love, my heart longs day and night for the meeting with you
    -for the meeting that is all-devouring death.
    Sweep me away like a storm; take everything I have;
    break open my sleep and plunder my dreams. Rob me of my world.
    In that devastation, in the utter nakedness of spirit, let us become one in beauty.
    Alas for my vain desire! Where is this hope for union except in thee, my God?

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Peace, my heart, let the time for the parting be sweet.
    Let it not be a death but completeness.
    Let love melt into memory and pain into songs.
    Let the flight through the sky end in the folding of the wings over the nest.
    Let the last touch of your hands be gentle like the flower of the night.
    Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a moment, and say your last words in silence.
    I bow to you and hold up my lamp to light you on your way.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Then finish the last song and let us leave.
    Forget this night when the night is no more.
    Whom do I try to clasp in my arms? Dreams can never be made captive.
    My eager hands press emptiness to my heart and it bruises my heart.

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Hands cling to hands and eyes linger on eyes: thus
    begins the record of our hearts.
    It is the moonlight night of March; the sweet smell of henna
    is in the air; my flute lies on the earth neglected and your garland of flowers
    is unfinished.
    This love between you and me is simple as a song.

    Your veil of the saffron colour makes my eyes drunk.
    The jasmine wreath that you wove me thrills to my heart like praise.
    It is a game of giving and withholding, revealing and screening again; some
    smiles and some little shyness, and some sweet useless struggles.
    This love between you and me is simple as a song.

    No mystery beyond the present; no striving for the impossible;
    no shadow behind the charm; no groping in the depth of the dark.
    This love between you and me is simple as a song.

    We do not stray out of all words into the ever silent; we do not raise our
    hands to the void for things beyond hope.
    It is enough what we give and we get.
    We have not crushed the joy to the utmost to wring from it the wine of pain.
    This love between you and me is simple as a song.

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Your questioning eyes are sad. They seek to know my meaning
    as the moon would fathom the sea.
    I have bared my life before your eyes from end to end, with
    nothing hidden or held back. That is why you know me not.
    If it were only a gem, I could break it into a hundred pieces
    and string them into a chain to put on your neck.
    If it were only a flower, round and small and sweet, I could pluck it
    from its stem and set it in your hair.
    But it is a heart, my beloved. Where are its shores and its bottom?
    You know not the limits of this kingdom, still you are its queen.
    If it were only a moment of pleasure it would flower in an easy smile,
    and you could see it and read it in a moment.
    If it were merely a pain it would melt in limpid tears, reflecting its
    inmost secret without a word.
    But it is love, my beloved.
    Its pleasure and pain are boundless, and endless its wants and wealth.
    It is as near to you as your life, but you can never wholly know it

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Do not go, my love, without asking my leave.
    I have watched all night, and now my eyes are heavy with sleep
    I fear lest I lose you when Iam sleeping.
    Do not go, my love, without asking my leave.

    I start up and stretch my hands to touch you.
    I ask myself, "Is it a dream?"
    Could I but entangle your feet with my heart and hold them
    fast my breast!
    Do not go, my love, without asking my leave.

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    I have plucked your flower, O world!
    I pressed it to my heart and the thorn pricked.
    When the day waned and it darkened, I found that
    the flower had faded, but the pain remained.

    More flowers will come to you with perfume and pride, O world!
    But my time for flower-gathering is over, and through the dark night
    I have not my rose, only the pain remains.

    Offline pramanisa

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    Re: Collection of Poems by Rabindranath Tagore
    « Reply #2 on: July 01, 2007, 06:23:54 AM »
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  • Gitanjali

    1-
    "Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This
    frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with
    fresh life.

    This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and
    hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.


    At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in
    joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.


    Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine.
    Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill."



    2-

    "When thou commandest me to sing, it seems that my heart would break
    with pride; and I look to thy face, and tears come to my eyes.
    All that is harsh and dissonant in my life melts into one sweet
    harmony- and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its flight
    across the sea.
    I know thou takest pleasure in my singing. I know that only as a singer
    I come before thy presence.
    I touch by the edge of the far-spreading wing of my song thy feet which
    I could never aspire to reach.
    Drunk with joy of singing I forget myself and call thee friend who art
    my Lord".

    Offline pramanisa

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    Re: Collection of Poems by Rabindranath Tagore
    « Reply #3 on: July 01, 2007, 06:24:41 AM »
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  • Ungrateful Sorrow


    At dawn shey(1) departed
    My mind tried to console me -
    " Everything is Maya(2)".
    Angrily I replied:
    "Here's this sewing box on the table,
    that flower-pot on the terrace,
    this monogrammed hand-fan on the bed---
    all these are real."

    My mind said: "Yet, think again."
    I rejoined: " You better stop.
    Look at this storybook,
    the hairpin halfway amongst its leaves,
    signaling the rest is unread;
    if all these things are "Maya",
    then why should "shey" be more unreal?"


    My mind becomes silent.
    A friend arrived and says:
    "That which is good is real
    it is never non-existent;
    entire world preserves and cherishes it its chest
    like a precious jewel in a necklace."


    I replied in anger: "How do you know?
    Is a body not good? Where did that body go?"


    Like a small boy in a rage hitting his mother,
    I began to strike at everything in this world
    that gave me shelter.
    And I screamed:" The world is treacherous."


    Suddenly, I was startled.
    It seemed like someone admonished me :" You- ungrateful ! "


    I looked at the crescent moon
    hidden behind the tamarisk tree outside my window.
    As if the dear departed one is smiling
    and playing hide-and-seek with me.


    From the depth of darkness punctuated by scattered stars
    came a rebuke: "when I let you grasp me you call it an deception,
    and yet when I remain concealed,
    why do you hold on to your faith in me with such conviction?"

    Offline pramanisa

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    Re: Collection of Poems by Rabindranath Tagore
    « Reply #4 on: July 01, 2007, 06:25:25 AM »
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  • My Dependence

    I like to be dependent, and so for ever
    with warmth and care of my mother
    my father , to love, kiss and embrace
    wear life happily in all their grace.

    I like to be dependent, and so for ever
    on my kith and kin, for they all shower
    harsh and warm advices, complaints
    full wondering ,true and info giants.


    I like to be dependent, and so for ever
    for my friends, chat and want me near
    with domestic,family and romantic tips
    colleagues as well , guide me work at risks.


    I like to be dependent, and so for ever
    for my neighbours too, envy at times
    when at my rise of fortune like to hear
    my daily steps , easy and odd things too.

    Offline pramanisa

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    Re: Collection of Poems by Rabindranath Tagore
    « Reply #5 on: July 01, 2007, 06:26:12 AM »
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  • My Song

    This song of mine will wind its music around you,
    my child, like the fond arms of love.

    The song of mine will touch your forehead
    like a kiss of blessing.

    When you are alone it will sit by your side and
    whisper in your ear, when you are in the crowd
    it will fence you about with aloofness.

    My song will be like a pair of wings to your dreams,
    it will transport your heart to the verge of the unknown.

    It will be like the faithful star overhead
    when dark night is over your road.

    My song will sit in the pupils of your eyes,
    and will carry your sight into the heart of things.

    And when my voice is silenced in death,
    my song will speak in your living heart.

    Offline pramanisa

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    Re: Collection of Poems by Rabindranath Tagore
    « Reply #6 on: July 01, 2007, 06:26:58 AM »
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  • The Child Angel

    Let your life come amongst them like a flame of light, my child,
    unflickering and pure, and delight them into silence.

    They are cruel in their greed and their envy,
    their words are like hidden knives thirsting for blood.

    Go and stand amidst their scowling hearts, my child,
    and let your gentle eyes fall upon them like the
    forgiving peace of the evening over the strife of the day.

    Let them see your face, my child, and thus know the
    meaning of all things, let them love you and love each other.

    Come and take your seat in the bosom of the limitless, my child.
    At sunrise open and raise your heart like a blossoming flower,
    and at sunset bend your head and in silence
    complete the worship of the day.

    Offline pramanisa

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    Re: Collection of Poems by Rabindranath Tagore
    « Reply #7 on: July 01, 2007, 06:27:32 AM »
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  • The Gardener

    When I go alone at night to my love-tryst,
    birds do not sing, the wind does not stir,
    the houses on both sides pf the street stand silent.
    It is my own anklets that grow lous at
    every step and I am ashamed.

    When I sit on my balcony and listen to his footsteps,
    leaves do not rustle on the trees, and the waster
    is still in the river like the sword on the
    knees of a sentry fallen asleep.

    It is my own heart that beats wildly -
    I do not know how to quiet it.

    When my love comes and sits by my side,
    when my body trembles and my eyelids droop,
    the night darkens, the winds blow out the lamp,
    and the clouds draw veils over the stars.

    It is the jewel at my own breast that shines
    and gives light. I do not know how to hide it."



    Offline saikrupakaro

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    Re: Collection of Poems by Rabindranath Tagore
    « Reply #8 on: August 23, 2007, 02:32:08 AM »
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  • :-* :-* :-* :-* :-*Dear Sai Bhagat, :-* :-* :-* :-* :-* :-*

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    Thanks baba is happy with you.

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