#IndianWriters #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Free me from the bonds of your swe… This mist of heavy incense stifles… Open the doors, make room for the… I am lost in you, wrapped in the f… Free me from your spells, and give…
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…
“Ah, poet, the evening draws near; your hair is turning grey.” “Do you in your lonely musing hear the message of the hereafter?” “It is evening,” the poet said, “and I am listening beca...
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…
I know that the day will come when my sight of this earth shall… and life will take its leave in si… drawing the last curtain over my e… Yet stars will watch at night,
I know not from what distant time thou art ever coming nearer to mee… Thy sun and stars can never keep t… In many a morning and eve thy foot… and thy messenger has come within…
I dreamt that she sat by my head,… her fingers, playing the melody of… and struggled with my tears, till… my sleep like a bubble. I sat up and saw the glow of the…
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…
Last night in the garden I offere… lifted the cup to your lips, you s… I raised your veil, unbound your t… breast your face sweet with its si… dream overflowed the world of slum…
If you would have it so, I will e… If it sets your heart aflutter, I… If it suddenly startles you in you… If it confuses you in your flower-… If it makes the water wanton and w…
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…
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…
11 SOME unseen fingers, like idle b… are playing upon my heart the musi… 12 ‘WHAT language is thine, O sea?’
II Keep me fully glad with nothing. Only take my hand in your hand. In the gloom of the deepening night...
If thou speakest not I will fill… I will keep still and wait like th… and its head bent low with patienc… The morning will surely come, the… and thy voice pour down in golden…