#Indians #IndianWriters #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Ah, these jasmines, these white ja… I seem to remember the first day w… these jasmines, these white jasmin… I have loved the sunlight, the sky… I have heard the liquid murmur of…
He it is, the innermost one, who awakens my being with his deep… He it is who puts his enchantment… and joyfully plays on the chords o… in varied cadence of pleasure and…
Let your work be, bride. Listen,… Do you hear, he is gently shaking… See that your anklets make no loud… Let your work be, bride, the guest… No, it is not the ghostly wind, br…
71 THE woodcutter’s axe begged for i… The tree gave it. 72 IN my solitude of heart
If people came to know where my ki… into the air. The walls are of white silver and… The queen lives in a palace with s… wears a jewel that cost all the we…
“Where have I come from, where di… its mother. She answered, half crying, half la… baby to her breast— “You were hidden in my heart as it…
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…
The sleep that flits on baby’s eye… it comes? Yes, there is a rumour t… in the fairy village among shadows… glow—worms, there hang two shy bud… comes to kiss baby’s eyes.
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…
Keep me fully glad with nothing.… In the gloom of the deepening nigh… I will spread myself out at your f… Make my life glad with nothing. The rains sweep the sky from end t…
It is time for me to go, mother;… When in the paling darkness of the… your arms for your baby in the bed… here!”—mother, I am going. I shall become a delicate draught…
Free me from the bonds of your sweetness, my love! Nor more of th… wine of kisses. This mist of heavy incense stifles my heart.
Why do you sit there on the floor… mother dear? The rain is coming in through the… wet, and you don’t mind it. Do you hear the gong striking four…
STRAY birds of summer come to my… to sing and fly away. And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh…
Life is given to us, we earn it by giving it. Let the dead have the immortality… but the living the immortality of… Life’s errors cry for the merciful…