#IndianWriters #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
I shall gladly suffer the pride of… if only in some happy future I am… forest. The herd—boy who grazes his cattle… tree, and idly weaves gunja flower…
“Come and hire me,” I cried, whil… Sword in hand, the King came in h… He held my hand and said, “I will… But his power counted for nought,… In the heat of the midday the hous…
Come to my garden walk, my love.… press themselves on your sight. Pa… chance joy, which like a sudden wo… elude. For lover’s gift is shy, it never…
I often wonder where lie hidden th… Through what primal paradise in a… Those marks of their constant trea… Yet suddenly in some wordless musi… It seems that the two friends meet…
I THE DARK In a worldless timeless lightless… Four—faced Brahma broods. nasad asin, no sad asit tadanim; nasid raja no vioma paro yat.
It is written in the book that Ma… noisy world, to go to the forest s… that the forest hermitage is only… birthplace of flowers and the haun… hooks are waiting there for the th…
I run as a musk-deer runs in the s… The night is the night of mid-May… I lose my way and I wander, I see… From my heart comes out and dances… The gleaming vision flits on.
The road is my wedded companion.… day, she sings to my dreams all ni… My meeting with her had no beginni… each daybreak, renewing its summer… her every new kiss is the first ki…
In one salutation to thee, my God… let all my senses spread out and t… Like a rain—cloud of July hung low with its burden of unshed… let all my mind bend down at thy d…
I paced alone on the road across t… hiding its last gold like a miser. The daylight sank deeper and deepe… widowed land, whose harvest had be… Suddenly a boy’s shrill voice rose…
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 was not aware of the moment when I first crossed the threshold… What was the power that made me op… like a bud in the forest at midnig… When in the morning I looked upon…
I found a few old letters of mine carefully hidden in thy box—a few small toys for thy memory to play with. With a timorous heart thou didst try to steal these trifles from the...
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.