#IndianWriters #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Speak to me, my love! Tell me in words what you sang. The night is dark. The stars are lost in clouds. The wind is sighing through the leaves. I will let loose my hair. My blue cloa...
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;
Tell me if this be all true, my lo… When these eyes flash their lightn… Is it true that my lips are sweet… Do the memories of vanished months… Does the earth, like a harp, shive…
I asked nothing, only stood at the edge of the wood behind the tree. Languor was still upon the eyes of the dawn, and the dew in the ai… The lazy smell of the damp grass
Supposing I became a chanpa flowe… branch high up that tree, and shoo… danced upon the newly budded leave… You would call, “Baby, where are… myself and keep quite quiet.
No, my friends, I shall never be an ascetic, whatever you may say. I shall never be an ascetic if she does not take the vow with me. It is my firm resolve that if I cannot find a shady ...
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…
Life of my life, I shall ever try… that thy living touch is upon all… I shall ever try to keep all untru… that thou art that truth which has… I shall ever try to drive all evil…
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…
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…
Strong Mercy My desires are many and my cry is… but ever didst thou save me by har… and this strong mercy has been wro… Day by day thou art making me wort…
I asked of Destiny, “Tell me who… Destiny told me to look behind. I turned and saw my own self behin…
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…
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…
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.