#IndianWriters #NobelPrize
I asked nothing, only stood at the… Languor was still upon the eyes of… The lazy smell of the damp grass h… Under the banyan tree you were mil… And I was standing still.
I thought that my voyage had come… at the last limit of my power,—tha… that provisions were exhausted and the time come to take shelter… But I find that thy will knows no…
Why did the lamp go out? I shaded it with my cloak to save… Why did the flower fade? I pressed it to my heart with anxi… Why did the stream dry up?
I dive down into the depth of the… No more sailing from harbor to har… And now I am eager to die into th… Into the audience hall by the fath… I shall tune it to the notes of fo…
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.
This is my delight, thus to wait and watch at the ways… where shadow chases light and the rain comes in the wake of… Messengers, with tidings from unkn…
One day in spring, a woman came In my lonely woods, In the lovely form of the Beloved… Came, to give to my songs, melodie… To give to my dreams, sweetness.
Mother, I shall weave a chain of… with my tears of sorrow. The stars have wrought their ankle… but mine will hang upon thy breast… Wealth and fame come from thee
When she passed by me with quick s… From the unknown island of a heart… A flutter of a flitting touch brus… It fell upon my heart like a sigh…
He whom I enclose with my name is… I am ever busy building this wall… the sky day by day I lose sight of… I take pride in this great wall, a… lest a least hole should be left i…
Mother, the folk who live up in th… “We play from the time we wake til… We play with the golden dawn, we p… I ask, “But how am I to get up to… They answer, “Come to the edge of…
Where the mind is without fear and… Where knowledge is free; Where the world has not been broke… domestic walls; Where words come out from the dept…
IX Amidst the rush and roar of life,… Great Time sits enamoured at your… “Speak, speak to me, my love; spea… But your speech is shut up in ston…
You are the evening cloud floating… I paint you and fashion you ever w… You are my own, my own, Dweller i… Your feet are rosy-red with the gl… Your lips are bitter-sweet with th…
One morning in the flower garden a… I put it round my neck, and tears… I kissed her and said, “You are b… You yourself know not how beautifu…