#IndianWriters #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Day by day I float my paper boats… In bid black letters I write my n… I hope that someone in some strang… I load my little boats with shiuli… I launch my paper boats and look u…
When I bring to you colored toys,… I understand why there is such a p… and why flowers are painted in tin… ——when I give colored toys to you,… When I sing to make you dance
I ask for a moment’s indulgence to… that I have in hand I will finish… Away from the sight of thy face my… and my work becomes an endless toi… Today the summer has come at my wi…
I WANT TO give you something, m… Our lives will be carried apart, a… But I am not so foolish as to hop… Young is your life, your path long… You have your play and your playma…
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…
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…
When storm—clouds rumble in the sk… The moist east wind comes marching… bagpipes among the bamboos. Then crowds of flowers come out of… where, and dance upon the grass in…
81 WHAT is this unseen flame of dar… whose sparks are the stars? 82 LET life be beautiful like summer…
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.
The evening was lonely for me, and… heart became dry, and it seemed to… fashioned by the traders in words.… snuffed the candle. In a moment th… moonlight.
Why do you put me to shame with a… I have not come as a beggar. Only for a passing hour I stood a… Why do you put me to shame with a… Not a rose did I gather from your…
When I give up the helm I know that the time has come for… What there is to do will be instan… Vain is this struggle. Then take away your hands
The fair was on before the temple.… Brighter than all the gladness of… The shrill joy of that whistle flo… An endless throng of people came a… Greater than all the troubles of t…
If baby only wanted to, he could f… It is not for nothing that he does… He loves to rest his head on mothe… bear to lose sight of her. Baby know all manner of wise words…
41 THE trees, like the longings of the earth, stand a—tiptoe to peep at the heav… 42