Your SlideShare is downloading. ×
Welcome to Rabindranath Tagore’s Poems ~ Part 1<br />         Rabindranath Tagore(7 May 1861 - 7 August 1941), also known ...
Welcome To Rabindranath Tagores Poems
Welcome To Rabindranath Tagores Poems
Welcome To Rabindranath Tagores Poems
Welcome To Rabindranath Tagores Poems
Welcome To Rabindranath Tagores Poems
Welcome To Rabindranath Tagores Poems
Welcome To Rabindranath Tagores Poems
Welcome To Rabindranath Tagores Poems
Welcome To Rabindranath Tagores Poems
Welcome To Rabindranath Tagores Poems
Welcome To Rabindranath Tagores Poems
Welcome To Rabindranath Tagores Poems
Upcoming SlideShare
Loading in...5
×

Welcome To Rabindranath Tagores Poems

1,739

Published on

4 Comments
2 Likes
Statistics
Notes
No Downloads
Views
Total Views
1,739
On Slideshare
0
From Embeds
0
Number of Embeds
0
Actions
Shares
0
Downloads
0
Comments
4
Likes
2
Embeds 0
No embeds

No notes for slide

Transcript of "Welcome To Rabindranath Tagores Poems"

  1. 1. Welcome to Rabindranath Tagore’s Poems ~ Part 1<br /> Rabindranath Tagore(7 May 1861 - 7 August 1941), also known by the sobriquet Gurudev, was a Bengali poet, visual artist, playwright, novelist, and composer whose works reshaped Bengali literature and music in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. He became Asia's first Nobel laureate when he won the 1913 Nobel Prize in Literature.<br />Tagore wrote novels, short stories, songs, dance-dramas, and essays on political and personal topics. Gitanjali (Song Offerings), Gora (Fair-Faced), and Ghare-Baire (The Home and the World) are among his best-known works.<br />><br />><br />><br />><br />I Dreamt<br />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 of unspoken words burst my sleep like a bubble.I sat up and saw the glow of the Milky Way above my window, like a world of silence on fire, and I wondered if at this moment, she had a dream that rhymed with mine.<br /> *****************************<br /> One Day in Spring<br />One day in spring, a woman came in my lonely woods, in the lovely form of the Beloved.Came, to give to my songs, melodies,to give to my dreams, sweetness.Suddenly a wild wave broke over my heart's shores and drowned all language.To my lips no name came.She stood beneath the tree, turned, glanced at my face, made sad with pain,And with quick steps, came and sat by me.Taking my hands in hers, she said:'You do not know me, nor I you-I wonder how this could be?'I said:'We two shall build, a bridge for everbetween two beings, each to the other unknown,this eager wonder is at the heart of things.'The cry that is in my heart is also the cry of her heart;The thread with which she binds me binds her too.Her have I sought everywhere, her have I worshipped within me,Hidden in that worship she has sought me too.Crossing the wide oceans, she came to steal my heart,She forgot to return, having lost her own.Her own charms play traitor to her,She spreads her net, knowing notWhether she will catch or be caught.<br />*******************<br />She Dwelt Here by the Pool<br />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 smell of the wet earth had come to her over the young shoots of rice.Her pet name is known here among those date-palm groves, and in the courtyardswhere girls sit and talk while stitching their winter quilts. The water in this pool keeps in its depth the memory of her swimming limbs, and her wet feet had left their marks, day after day, on the footpath leading to the village.The women who come today with their vessels to the water have all seen her smile over simple jests, and the old peasant, taking his bullocks to their bath, used to stop at her door every day to greet her.Many a sailing-boat passes by this village; many a traveller takes rest beneath that banyan tree; the ferry-boat crosses to yonder ford carrying crowds to the market; but they never notice this spot by the village road,near the pool with its ruined landing-stairs, - where dwelt she whom I love.<br />******************<br /> Endless Time<br />Time is endless in thy hands, my lord. There is none to count thy minutes. Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers. Thou knowest how to wait. Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower. We have no time to lose, and having no time we must scramble for a chance. We are too poor to be late. And thus it is that time goes by while I give it to every querulous man who claims it, and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last. At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate be shut; but I find that yet there is time.<br />*******************<br /> <br /> The Sun of the First Day<br />The sun of the first dayPut the questionTo the new manifestation of life - Who are you?There was no answer.Years passed by.The last sun of the last dayUttered the question on the shore of the western seaIn the hush of evening - Who are you?No answer came again.<br /> Trinity~5.10.09<br />

×