Rabindranath Tagore

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life of my life, I shall ever try to keep my body pure, knowing That thy living touch is upon all my limbs. I shall ever try to keep all untruths out from my

I ask for a moment’s indulgence to sit by thy side. The works That I have in hand I will finish afterwards. Away from the sight of thy face my heart knows no rest

I dreamt that she sat by my head, tenderly ruffling my hair with Her fingers, playing the melody of her touch. I looked at her face And struggled with my tears, till the agony

When she passed by me with quick Steps, the end of her skirt touched Me. From the unknown island of a Heart came a sudden warm breath of Spring. A flutter of a flitting

In the night of weariness Let me give myself up to sleep without struggle, Resting my trust upon thee. Let me not force my flagging spirit into a poor preparation for thy worship. It

Say of him what you please, but I know my child’s failings. I do not love him because he is good, but because he is my Little child. How should you know how dear

The sleep that flits on baby’s eyes-does anybody know from where It comes? Yes, there is a rumour that it has its dwelling where, In the fairy village among shadows of the forest dimly

If thou speakest not I will fill my heart with thy silence and endure it. I will keep still and wait like the night with starry vigil And its head bent low with patience.

That I want thee, only thee – let my heart repeat without end. All desires that distract me, day and night, Are false and empty to the core. As the night keeps hidden in

He it is, the innermost one, Who awakens my being with his deep hidden touches. He it is who puts his enchantment upon these eyes And joyfully plays on the chords of my heart

By all means they try to hold me secure who love me in this world. But it is otherwise with thy love which is greater than theirs, And thou keepest me free. Lest I

Have you not heard his silent steps? He comes, comes, ever comes. Every moment and every age, Every day and every night he comes, comes, ever comes. Many a song have I sung in

This is my prayer to thee, my lord – strike, Strike at the root of penury in my heart. Give me the strength lightly to bear my joys and sorrows. Give me the strength

Light, my light, the world-filling light, The eye-kissing light, Heart-sweetening light! Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the center of my life; The light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love; The

On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. The infinite sky is motionless overhead And the restless water is boisterous. On the seashore of endless worlds The children meet with shouts and dances. They

When I bring you coloured toys, my child, I understand why there Is such a play of colours on clouds, on water, and why flowers are Painted in tints-when I give coloured toys to

Last night in the garden I offered you my youth’s foaming wine. You Lifted the cup to your lips, you shut your eyes and smiled while I raised your veil, unbound your tresses, drawing

On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind was straying, And I knew it not. My basket was empty and the flower remained unheeded. Only now and again a sadness fell upon

I know that the day will come When my sight of this earth shall be lost, And life will take its leave in silence, Drawing the last curtain over my eyes. Yet stars will

Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it Droop and drop into the dust. I may not find a place in thy garland, but honour it with a touch

O Fool, try to carry thyself upon thy own shoulders! O beggar, to come beg at thy own door! Leave all thy burdens on his hands who can bear all, And never look behind

I am small because I am a little child. I shall be big when I am As old as my father is. My teacher will come and say, “It is late, bring your slate

You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don’t Understand. He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really Make out what he meant? What

To the guests that must go bid God’s speed and brush away all traces Of their steps. Take to your bosom with a smile What is easy and simple and near. To-day is the

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

Your days will be full of cares, if you must give me your heart. My house by the cross-roads has its doors open and my mind is Absent, – for I sing. I shall

I only said, “When in the evening the round full moon gets Entangled among the beaches of that Dadam tree, couldn’t somebody Catch it?” But dada laughed at me and said, “Baby, you are

Mother, I shall weave a chain of pearls for thy neck With my tears of sorrow. The stars have wrought their anklets of light to deck thy feet, But mine will hang upon thy

She dwelt here by the pool with its landing-stairs in ruins. Many An evening she had watched the moon made dizzy by the shaking of Bamboo leaves, and on many a rainy day the

There is room for you. You are alone with your few sheaves of rice. My boat is crowded, it is heavily laden, but how can I turn you Away? Your young body is slim

“Trust love even if it brings sorrow. Do not close up your heart.” “Ah no, my friend, your words are Dark, I cannot understand them.” “Pleasure is frail like a dewdrop, While it laughs

Take back your coins, King’s Councillor. I am of those women you Sent to the forest shrine to decoy the young ascetic who had never Seen a women. I failed in your bidding. Dimly

Day by day I float my paper boats one by one down the running Stream. In bid black letters I write my name on them and the name of The village where I live.

I thought that my voyage had come to its end At the last limit of my power, – that the path before me was closed, That provisions were exhausted And the time come to

It was mid-day when you went Away. The sun was strong in the sky. I had done my work and sat alone On my balcony when you went away. Fitful gusts came winnowing Through

On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. The infinite sky is motionless overhead and the restless water is boisterous. On the seashore of endless worlds the children meet with shouts and dances. They

You left me and went on your way. I thought I should mourn for you And set your solitary image in my Heart wrought in a golden song. But ah, my evil fortune, time

Supposing I became a chanpa flower, just for fun, and grew on a Branch high up that tree, and shook in the wind with laughter and Danced upon the newly budded leaves, would you

O mad, superbly drunk; If you kick open your doors and Play the fool in public; If you empty your bag in a night, And snap your fingers at prudence; If you walk in

Leave this chanting and singing and telling of beads! Whom dost thou worship in this lonely dark corner of a temple with doors all shut? Open thine eyes and see thy God is not

That I should make much of myself and turn it on all sides, Thus casting colored shadows on thy radiance – such is thy Maya. Thou settest a barrier in thine own being And

Where is heaven? you ask me, my child,-the sages tell us it is Beyond the limits of birth and death, unswayed by the rhythm of day And night; it is not of the earth.

It is written in the book that Man, when fifty, must leave the Noisy world, to go to the forest seclusion. But the poet proclaims That the forest hermitage is only for the young.

I was walking by the road, I do not Know why, when the noonday was past And bamboo branches rustled in the Wind. The prone shadows with their out- Stretched arms clung to the

Child, how happy you are sitting in the dust, playing with a broken twig all the morning. I smile at your play with that little bit of a broken twig. I am busy with

Ah, who was it coloured that little frock, my child, and covered Your sweet limbs with that little red tunic? You have come out in the morning to play in the courtyard, Tottering and

She dwelt on the hillside by edge Of a maize-field, near the spring that Flows in laughing rills through the Solemn shadows of ancient trees. The Women came there to fill their jars, And

When the heart is hard and parched up, Come upon me with a shower of mercy. When grace is lost from life, Come with a burst of song. When tumultuous work raises its din

The fair was on before the temple. It had rained from the early morning And the day came to its end. Brighter than all the gladness of The crowd was the bright smile of

She is near to my heart as the meadow-flower to the earth; she is Sweet to me as sleep is to tired limbs. My love for her is my life Flowing in its fullness,

Bless this little heart, this white soul that has won the kiss of Heaven for our earth. He loves the light of the sun, he loves the sight of his Mother’s face. He has

Why do you whisper so faintly in My ears, O Death, my Death? When the flowers droop in the Evening and cattle come back to their Stalls, you stealthily come to my side And

The night was dark when she went away, and the slept. The night is dark now, and I call for her, “Come back, my Darling; the world is asleep; and no one would know,

On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time. But it is never lost, my lord. Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands. Hidden in the heart

Come to my garden walk, my love. Pass by the fervid flowers that Press themselves on your sight. Pass them by, stopping at some Chance joy, which like a sudden wonder of sunset illumines,

I shall gladly suffer the pride of culture to die out in my house, If only in some happy future I am born a herd-boy in the Brinda Forest. The herd-boy who grazes his

Art thou abroad on this stormy night On thy journey of love, my friend? The sky groans like one in despair. I have no sleep tonight. Ever and again I open my door and

None lives for ever, brother, and Nothing lasts for long. Keep that in Mind and rejoice. Our life is not the one old burden, Our path is not the one long Journey. One sole

I spent my day on the scorching Hot dust of the road. Now, in the cool of the evening, I Knock at the door of the inn. It is Deserted and in ruins. A

If the day is done, If birds sing no more, If the wind has flagged tired, Then draw the veil of darkness thick upon me, Even as thou hast wrapt the earth with the

He whom I enclose with my name is weeping in this dungeon. I am ever busy building this wall all around; and as this wall goes up into The sky day by day I

Over the green and yellow rice-fields Sweep the shadows of the autumn Clouds followed by the swift-chasing Sun. The bees forget to sip their honey; Drunken with light they foolishly hover And hum. The

When I go alone at night to my Love-tryst, birds do not sing, the wind Does not stir, the houses on both sides Of the street stand silent. It is my own anklets that

In the beginning of time, there rose from the churning of God’s Dream two women. One is the dancer at the court of paradise, the Desired of men, she who laughs and plucks the

My desires are many and my cry is pitiful, But ever didst thou save me by hard refusals; And this strong mercy has been wrought into my life through and through. Day by day

Ah me, why did they build my House by the road to the market Town? They moor their laden boats near My trees. They come and go and wander at Their will. I sit

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