Rabindranath Tagore
The Gardener XVI: Hands Cling to Eyes
Hands cling to hands and eyes linger On eyes: thus begins the record of our Hearts. It is the moonlit night of March; The sweet smell of henna is in the air; My flute
The Banyan Tree
O you shaggy-headed banyan tree standing on the bank of the pond, Have you forgotten the little chile, like the birds that have Nested in your branches and left you? Do you not remember
Lover's Gifts LII: Tired of Waiting
Tired of waiting, you burst your bonds, impatient flowers, before The winter had gone. Glimpses of the unseen comer reached your Wayside watch, and you rushed out running and panting, impulsive Jasmines, troops of
The First Jasmines
Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines! I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with These jasmines, these white jasmines. I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green
Lover's Gifts LVIII: Things Throng and Laugh
Things throng and laugh loud in the sky; the sands and dust dance And whirl like children. Man’s mind is aroused by their shouts; his Thoughts long to be the playmates of things. Our
Stream Of Life
The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day Runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures. It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust
The Further Bank
I long to go over there to the further bank of the river. Where those boats are tied to the bamboo poles in a line; Where men cross over in their boats in the
Salutation
In one salutation to thee, my God, Let all my senses spread out and touch this world at thy feet. Like a rain-cloud of July Hung low with its burden of unshed showers Let
Journey Home
The time that my journey takes is long and the way of it long. I came out on the chariot of the first gleam of light, and pursued my Voyage through the wildernesses of
Lover's Gifts XLII: Are You a Mere Picture
Are you a mere picture, and not as true as those stars, true as This dust? They throb with the pulse of things, but you are Immensely aloof in your stillness, painted form. The
The Gardener XXXVIII: My Love, Once upon a Time
My love, once upon a time your poet Launched a great epic in his mind. Alas, I was not careful, and it struck Your ringing anklets and came to Grief. It broke up into
Prisoner
‘Prisoner, tell me, who was it that bound you?’ ‘It was my master,’ said the prisoner. ‘I thought I could outdo everybody in the world in wealth and power, And I amassed in my
Face To Face
Day after day, O lord of my life, Shall I stand before thee face to face. With folded hands, O lord of all worlds, Shall I stand before thee face to face. Under thy
My Song
This song of mine will wind its music around you, my child, like The fond arms of love. This song of mine will touch your forehead like a kiss of Blessing. When you are
Lover's Gifts XLVII: The Road Is
The road is my wedded companion. She speaks to me under my feet all Day, she sings to my dreams all night. My meeting with her had no beginning, it begins endlessly at Each