#IndianWriters #NobelPrize #FreeVerse
Sullen clouds are gathering fast o… forest. O child, do not go out! The palm trees in a row by the lak… against the dismal sky; the crows…
71 THE woodcutter’s axe begged for i… The tree gave it. 72 IN my solitude of heart
They clamour and fight, they doubt… to their wrangling. Let your life come amongst them li… child, unflickering and pure, and… They are cruel in their greed and…
When I go alone at night to my lo… It is my own anklets that grow lou… When I sit on my balcony and list… It is my own heart that beats wild… When my love comes and sits by my…
I am small because I am a little… as old as my father is. My teacher will come and say, “It… and your books.” I shall tell him, “ Do you not kn…
Day after day he comes and goes aw… Go, and give him a flower from my… If he asks who was it that sent it… He sits on the dust under the tree… Spread there a seat with flowers a…
I am restless. I am athirst for f… My soul goes out in a longing to t… O Great Beyond, O the keen call… I forget, I ever forget, that I h… I am eager and wakeful, I am a st…
I am like a remnant of a cloud of… uselessly roaming in the sky, O my… Thy touch has not yet melted my va… making me one with thy light, and thus I count months and years…
I travelled the old road every day… my cattle to the meadows, I ferrie… all the ways were well known to me… One morning my basket was heavy wi… the fields, the pastures crowded w…
On the day when the lotus bloomed,… and I knew it not. My basket was… Only now and again a sadness fell… dream and felt a sweet trace of a… That vague sweetness made my heart…
Why did he choose to come to my do… As I come in and out I pass by hi… I know not if I should speak to h… The cloudy nights in July are dar… He weaves his songs with fresh tun…
When I go from hence let this be my parting word, that what I have seen is unsurpass… I have tasted of the hidden honey… that expands on the ocean of light…
Who stole sleep from baby’s eyes?… Clasping her pitcher to her waist… from the village near by. It was noon. The children’s playt… the pond were silent.
With a glance of your eyes you cou… But for their praises you have no… You could humble at your feet the… But it is your loved ones, unknown… The perfection of your arms would…
The same stream of life that runs… runs through the world and dances… It is the same life that shoots in… in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves o…