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Rabindranath Tagore

Rabindranath Tagore

The Gardener: 51
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 breast.

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Other works by Rabindranath Tagore...
The Gardener: 42

O mad, superbly drunk; If you kick open your doors and pl… If you empty your bag in a night,… If you walk in curious paths and p… Reck not rhyme or reason;
The Gardener: 82

We are to play the game of death t… The night is black, the clouds in… We have left our bed of dreams, fl… We sit upon a swing, and the storm… My bride starts up with fear and d…
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The Gardener: 48

Free me from the bonds of your swe… This mist of heavy incense stifles… Open the doors, make room for the… I am lost in you, wrapped in the f… Free me from your spells, and give…
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Krishnakali

In the village they call her the d… but to me she is the flower Krishn… On a cloudy day in a field I saw the dark girl’s dark gazelle… She had no covering on her head,
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Worker of the Universe

It is only the revelation of You… that is endlessly new and eternall… and that gives the only meaning to… we feel Your rhythmic throb as sou… world in our own souls; then are w…
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The Gardener: 49

I hold her hands and press her to… I try to fill my arms with her lov… Ah, but, where is it? Who can st… I try to grasp the beauty, it elud… Baffled and weary I come back.
Distant Time

I know not from what distant time thou art ever coming nearer to mee… Thy sun and stars can never keep t… In many a morning and eve thy foot… and thy messenger has come within…
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The Gardener: 57

I plucked your flower, O world! I pressed it to my heart and the t… When the day waned and it darkened… More flowers will come to you with… But my time for flower-gathering i…
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Maya

Maya That I should make much of myself… thus casting colored shadows on th… ——such is thy Maya. Thou settest a barrier in thine ow…
 1
Face to Face

Day after day, O lord of my life, shall I stand before thee face to… With folded hands, O lord of all… shall I stand before thee face to… Under thy great sky in solitude an…
 1
Morning Woman, by Egon Schiele
The Gardener: 28

Your questioning eyes are sad. T… I have bared my life before your e… If it were only a gem I could bre… If it were only a flower, round an… But it is a heart, my beloved. W…
 2
The Gardener: 64

I spent my day on the scorching ho… Now, in the cool of the evening,… A grim ashath tree spreads its hun… Days have been when wayfarers came… They spread their mats in the cour…
Let Me Not Forget

If it is not my portion to meet th… then let me ever feel that I have… ——let me not forget for a moment, let me carry the pangs of this sor… and in my wakeful hours.
Stray Birds 61 - 70

61 TAKE my wine in my own cup, frie… It loses its wreath of foam when poured into that of others. 62
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Wreath of Flowers encircling a Niche, by Karel Batist
The Gardener: 37

Would you put your wreath of fresh… But you must know that the one wre… It is too late to ask my heart in… There was a time when my life was… Now it is squandered far and wide.



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