The Gardener

by Rabindranath Tagore

Most of the lyrics of love and life, the translations of whichfrom Bengali are published in this book, were written muchearlier than the series of religious poems contained in thebook named Gitanjali. The translations are not always literal—the originals being sometimes abridged and sometimesparaphrased.Rabindranath Tagore.

Genres: Poetry, Classics, Literature, 20th Century, Nobel Prize, India, Asia

86 pages, Paperback

Published February 21, 2019

About the author

Awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913 "because of his profoundly sensitive, fresh and beautiful verse, by which, with consummate skill, he has made his poetic thought, expressed in his own English words, a part of the literature of the West."

Tagore modernised Bengali art by spurning rigid classical forms and resisting linguistic strictures. His novels, stories, songs, dance-dramas, and essays spoke to topics political and personal. Gitanjali (Song Offerings), Gora (Fair-Faced), and Ghare-Baire (The Home and the World) are his best-known works, and his verse, short stories, and novels were acclaimed—or panned—for their lyricism, colloquialism, naturalism, and unnatural contemplation. His compositions were chosen by two nations as national anthems: India's Jana Gana Mana and Bangladesh's Amar Shonar Bangla.

The complete works of Rabindranath Tagore (রবীন্দ্র রচনাবলী) in the original Bengali are now available at these third-party websites:
http://www.tagoreweb.in/
http://www.rabindra-rachanabali.nltr....

Reviews

[Jersamlenja]

Ova knjiga mi je ostavila podeljen, ali u celini pozitivan utisak. Neke pesme su mi bile veoma lepe, bliske i emotivno razumljive, dok su mi druge ostale prilično apstraktne i teške za razumevanje. Imala sam osećaj da im je potrebno dodatno tumačenje ili neko ko bi ih približio, jer bez tog konteksta nisam uspela da ih u potpunosti doživim. Ipak, bez obzira na to, jasno mi je zašto se ovo delo smatra kvalitetnim i zašto ima status klasika. Nisam se razočarala što sam ga pročitala, naprotiv — čini mi se da je to knjiga kojoj se može vraćati u različitim fazama života.

[مازن حسين]

يقع الكتاب في 78 صفحة من القطع المتوسط
هو ديوان شعري وبه مقطوعات تشبه القصص القصيرة، ما أعجبني في الكتاب هو أنه تخطى حاجز الترجمة من لغة إلى أخرى وهذا يرجع لسببين:- السبب الأول: موهبة طاغور الاستثنائية؛ والسبب الثاني: هو المترجم السوري الكبير د/بديع حقي
أقتبس بعض ما أعجبني في الديوان وإن كان في ذلك بعض الظلم لبقي الديوان
*خلصيني من أسر سِحْرك ، وردي إلي فُتُوَّتي، أقدم إليك قلبي المحرر
*سأهزك وأنت في أرجوحة بين أغصان(السيبتابارنا)، بينما يجهد القمر المبكر،مساء،في لثم ثوبك، من فرجات الأوراق
*أوه ايها الشاعر ، إن المساء ليدنو، وإن شعرك ليخُطَّةُ الشيبُ
،كنتِ تسيرين علي درب شاطيء النهر، وكانت الجَرَّة المسندة علي خصرتك مفعة
*لماذا ادرت وجهك إلي، بخفة، ونظرت إلي من وراء خمارك المنسدل
*آمِن بالحب ولو كان مصدراً للألم ولا تغلق قلبك
*أنتِ سحابة المساء التي تعبر سماء أحلامي

[Enock Ulle]

My beloved poet and one of his masterpieces. Some of the most beautiful verses ever written about love.

[Zahra tavakoli]

فوق العاده بود این کتاب.

[mahesh]

Rating is not for Poems, its for translation. Poem felt like paragraphs, I wish someone translate it atleast to kannada from bengali so i can feel the words.

[Jim Puskas]

What an utter delight this is! A set of 85 poems, celebrating the joys and sorrows of love. He begins with a lover who addresses his sweetheart as queen, presenting himself as a servant, seeking to be her gardener: I will keep fresh the grassy path you walk in the morning, where your feet will be greeted with praise at every step by the flowers eager for death.
And so he continues, in sensuous abandon. As reward for his service he asks to be allowed to … slip flower-chains over your wrists; to tinge the soles of your feet with the red juice of ashoka petals and kiss away the specks of dust that may chance to linger there.
Let’s face it, folks, this is entirely over the top, but unblushingly so! In the hands of a lesser poet, this would all come across as silly stuff but Tagore was a brilliant fellow and he manages to make it seem entirely rational.
It seems incredible that the works of a poet of such stature, a Nobel prize winner, should be largely forgotten today. Apart from his set of lectures on nationalism, very little of his work is still in print, woefully absent from libraries. None of his plays are performed today, at least in the West. His many prose-poems and sets of verses on connected themes are entirely accessible, never obscure or opaque. I’m afraid there’s little market for this sort of romantic entertainment today. Too bad! (I feel very fortunate to possess a collection of his poems and plays)
In the final poem in “The Gardener” collection he sends a message to future readers:
Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence?
I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds.
Open your doors and look around.
From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the vanished flowers of an hundred years before.
In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning, sending its glad voice across an hundred years.
Message received, thank you.

[Suphap Duangsan]

"มาหาเราเถิด ผู้เยาว์ บอกเราตามจริงว่าไยมีความบ้าในดวงตาเธอ?"
"ฉันไม่รู้ว่าดื่มเมรัยดอกฝิ่นป่าอะไรเข้าไป จึงมีความบ้าในดวงตาฉัน"
"อา ช่างน่าอาย"
"เอาเถิด บางคนฉลาดบางคนโง่ บางคนระวังตัวบางคนสะเพร่า มีดวงตาแย้มยิ้มและดวงตาร่ำไห้ แต่คือความบ้าที่อยู่ดวงตาฉัน"

"ผู้เยาว์ ไยเธอยืนนิ่งเพียงนั้นใต้ร่มไม้?"
"สองเท้าฉันเปลี้ยจากภาระแห่งหัวใจ ฉันจึงยืนนิ่งในร่มเงา"
"อา ช่างน่าอาย!"
"เอาเถิด บางคนเดินไปตามวิถีตน บางคนอ้อยอิ่ง บางคนเป็นไท บางคนถูกตีตรวน - และเท้าฉันเปลี้ยด้วยภาระแห่งหัวใจ"

บทที่ 25

____________________________

The Gardener
คนสวน

รพินทรนาถ ฐากูร ผู้เขียน
วิภาดา กิตติโกวิท ผู้แปล

มูลนิธิหนังสือเพื่อสังคม

___________________________

บทกวีไร้ฉันทลักษณ์ (Free Verse) จำนวน 85 บท ที่ผู้เขียนบรรจงปลูกเมล็ดพันธุ์แห่งความงามและความล้ำลึกของชีวิตให้เกิดขึ้นภายในหัวใจของผู้อ่านแต่ละคน

หากผมโชคดีอายุยืนยาวถึง 85 ปี ตามจำนวนบทที่ผู้เขียนรจนาไว้

ผมขอเลือกความงดงามของบทกวีบทที่ 25 เป็นตัวแทนความเปลี่ยนแปลงทางความคิดที่เกิดขึ้นในวัยที่ผมอายุ 25 ปีมาเป็นตัวแทนบทกวีทั้งหมดนะครับ

เผื่อจะส่งผ่านเมล็ดพันธุ์แห่งความเปลี่ยนแปลงให้เกิดขึ้นภายในใจผู้อ่านคนอื่นได้บ้าง

ไม่มากก็น้อย...

[Köksal KÖK]

kitapta 85 duygusal şiir var.

bunlar, tam bir şiir sayılmasa da, her biri 5-10 cümle içeren, bi nevi serbest nazım da diyebileceğimiz, duygusal yazılardan, fıkra-köşe yazılarında oluşan bir metin. aşk, doğa, acı, keder temalı sözler. evet, çoğu acı, keder, karamsar.

kitabın ilk parçası bahçıvan, köle ve kraliçe arasındaki diyalogdan oluşur. ve kitabın geri kalanıyla ilgisiz (bence), diğer şiirlerden-sözlerden bağımsız. sanırım farklı ruh haliyle yazılmış.

[Reelika Raimet]

https://raamaturiiulike.wordpress.com...

[heidi]

Perhaps it's age. Perhaps it's post-2020 pandemic life that made me learn how to read between the lines and the pauses... whatever it is, the words of Rabindranath Tagore speak more potently today compared to the last time I read these poems.

So many lines that I wish to revisit again and again... perhaps it's time I get myself a paperback copy so I can mark the pages with sticky bookmarks. Somehow an ebook doesn't really cut it when you wish to linger on the words and trace the prose with your finger.



"SERVANT. Make me the gardener of your flower garden.

QUEEN. What folly is this?

SERVANT. I will give up my other work.
I will throw my swords and lances down in the dust. Do not send
me to distant courts; do not bid me undertake new conquests.
But make me the gardener of your flower garden."



"It is a trifle that my hair is turning grey.
I am ever as young or as old as the youngest and the oldest of
this village.
Some have smiles, sweet and simple, and some a sly twinkle in
their eyes.
Some have tears that well up in the daylight, and others tears
that are hidden in the gloom.
They all have need for me, and I have no time to brood over the
afterlife.
I am of an age with each, what matter if my hair turns grey?"



"I am restless. I am athirst for far-away things.
My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim
distance.
O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am
bound in this spot evermore."



"If you must be mad and leap to your death, come, O come to my
lake.
It is cool and fathomlessly deep.
It is dark like a sleep that is dreamless.
There in its depths nights and days are one, and songs are
silence.
Come, O come to my lake, if you would plunge to your death."


Yes, Gurudev Ji, I will happily come to the lake.

[albin james]

Pas toi

Carving into bark till you bleed
Nailing the doors shut, locking yourself up
Living inside a dream from staying up too late
Praying to shadows and walking on for so long
Though I keep telling myself it takes time
Though I keep writing it down

Whatever I do, wherever I am
Nothing erases you, I'm thinking of you

Days go by as empty furrows
Within reason but with no love
My luck goes by and the winds change
Only remains the absence, unabashedly
Though I keep telling myself that I can't help it
That you don't forget till you grow old

Whatever I do, wherever I am
Nothing erases you, I'm thinking of you
And whatever I learn, I don't know
Why I am bleeding and you're not

There is no hate, there is no king
No god or shackles that we're not fighting against
What does it take, what power
What arm can destroy indifference?
Oh it's not fair, destiny is wrong
It's like an insult, more than contempt

- Jean-Jacques Goldman

[Delia Pangrate]

Ce-mi dai, cu toată voia-ți - primesc.
Mai mult - nimic nu-ți cer.
- ,,Da, da - ești mulțumitul cerșetor. Te știu.
Vrei tot ce am să-ți dau”.

De aș putea avea astă floare rătăcită, aș strânge-o la piept cu foc nestins.
- ,,Da, da - ești mulțumitul cerșetor. Te știu.
Vrei tot ce am să-ti dau”.

O singură privire a ochilor tăi drăgăstoși mi-ar ferici viața pentr-o întreagă veșnicie.
- ,,Dar dacă fi-va crudă privirea mea?
- ,,Ia-ș păstra rana în adâncul nemăsurat al sufletului meu”.
- ,,Da, da - ești mulțumitul cerșetor. Te știu. Vrei tot ce am să-ti dau”.

[heidi]

Beautiful words narrated well enough by Phil Schempf. It was not a perfect narration, as there were some jarring breaks in the middle of a few poems which messed up the experience a wee bit, but those seem to be editing / tech issues that are not the narrator's fault.

I enjoyed Mr Schempf's pacing and his intonation. And of course much thanks and appreciation to LibriVox and their volunteers for making this important work available in public domain.

[Amanda]

I read this one for my girlfriend, and some of it was better than other bits of it. And my favorite one was the first one. And some of them fit more than I'd like. This was definitely an interesting choice and I have to say I love getting requests for her.

[Nancy]

Lovely poems that were certainly translated well. The best line in the entire book has to be "My fate has not taken everything from me." and was a great reminder that we all usually have something good left in life if we truly understand what is valuable.

[unmono]

I've read it over and over again. And I know I'll keep reading it from time to time for the rest of my life.

[Peter King]

The author's translations are much better than the ones in Gitanjali -- less portentous, stodgy, and archaic.

[Monica]

“Let your life lightly dance on the
edges of Time like dew on the tip of
a leaf.”

[Lê Tuyền ICHI]

Tuyệt mỹ và cao thượng!

[Heba Tariq]

في ٢٠٢٢
اضفت طاغور في قائمة كتابي وشعرائي المفضلين للغاية
كل ما كتبه طاغور أبيات عذبة وجميلة ورقيقة
قد أعود لكتابة بعد الاقتباسات
♥️♥️♥️

[Kaj Roihio]

Luin jokin aikaa sitten Paolo Coelhon suositun teoksen Alkemisti ja se oli mielestäni säälittävää näennäishenkistä hölynpölyä. Eikä ollut edes omaperäinen. Libanonilainen Kahlil Gibran julkaisi 1923 kirjan Profeetta, jossa jokseenkin kömpelösti, mutta ainakin vilpittömästi luodataan uskonnollisia ja henkeviä teemoja. Ei sekään mielestäni varsinainen mestariteos ollut, mutta ainakin osoitti brasilialaisen Coelhon olevan perässäsoutaja. Nytpä löytyi vielä Profeettaakin edeltävä teos, vuonna 1913 ensimmäisenä aasialaisena kirjallisuuden Nobelin voittaneen Rabindranath Tagore runoteos Puutarhuri. Näiden kolmen nimet ovat muuten aika hämmentävän samankaltaisia. Joka tapauksessa Tagoren kirja on kaunis runojen muodostava kertomus rakkaudesta ja sen erinäisistä ilmenemismuodoista. Suomennos on Eino Leinon vuodelta 1913 ja kaikessa vanhanaikaisuudessan se lisää Puutarhuriin vielä tiettyä vuosisataista lyyrisyyttä. Tarina on hennon hento, kuin tuulessa kieppuva hius, mutta yksittäiset runot tekevät tästä miellyttävän lukukokemuksen.

[FÁTIMA LOZANO]

El jardinero es un libro que se respira. Es un canto al cuerpo, al roce, al deseo. Pero incluso en su erotismo hay pudor, belleza, una especie de santidad. No hay vulgaridad en su fuego, sino ternura; no hay ansiedad, sino espera.

Cada poema es un pétalo que cae lentamente sobre la piel del alma.
Me sentí mujer, amante, hija, tierra húmeda. Es un libro que se posa sobre el pecho como una mariposa. Ligero, pero conmovedor.

He amado a través de estos versos. Y he llorado, porque hay palabras que recuerdan lo que una ha perdido. O lo que aún no ha vivido.

“Él vino y se sentó a mi lado, pero no habló. Le tomé de la mano en la oscuridad y sentí que había amado en silencio toda mi vida.”

[Ellie Sumoza]

me gustó bastante, aunq tarde muchísimo en terminarlo pq sentía que no conectaba del todo con los poemas, a partir de las páginas 100-110 me fue gustando más y más; creo que mi poema favorito de todo el libro fue el LXVI
otros q me gustaron fueron el V, XXVI, XXX, XLI, XLVI, LII
y creo que el hecho de que sea de los primeros libros que he leído en físico, de cierta forma le da su mérito

[hân.]

đúng là thơ.

[Ivette Guichard]

4.5 🌟

[Beth Clark]

This story started off with lots of promise and engaging illustrations but ended, in my opinion, very abruptly.

[iam-mai]

Mỗi đoạn thơ đọc lên như một bài ca, dào dạt và giàu nhịp điệu. Lãng mạn khi chạm đến niềm khao khát cái vô hình, cái khôn cùng. Tận tuỵ khi dâng hiến vì tình yêu.

Mặt khác, có thể nói chung là: sến.

[Antholo]

Escruta las pasiones humanas en el marco de las tradiciones de la cultura oriental, y los paisajes exóticos de la India rodeándonos de; brillos, fragancias y colores de flores exóticas, tintineo de joyas, música de flauta, silencios de muchachas, susurros desde la mistad, las fases de contemplación e idolatración al amado/a, el deseo y la eclosión de la pasión. Sorprende la facilidad para entrar y desmenuzar el pensamiento de las mujeres dando una visión realista y objetiva de ellas. En los últimos poemas reflexiona sobre la soledad, la hospitalidad, la mortalidad, la vanidad, la Madre Tierra.

Poesía en prosa en su mayoría, sencilla y carente de rima. En algunos poemas destaca su originalidad, acierto e intuición para trasladar su visión y sus sensaciones. A veces repite algunos versos generando ritmo y creando una sensación de musicalidad en su conjunto.
Considero la obra como una fuente primaria, donde podremos reconocer a través de las descripciones el comportamiento y los sentimientos puros que nos ayudarán a diferenciar de otras sensaciones que hallamos podido sentir alguna vez. La finalidad de R. Tagore de descubrir, recopilar y transmitir estos pasajes y leyendas para su conocimiento es un aporte a la Cultura Oriental digno de reconocimiento.

[James]

The words are soft, the concepts quiet. Many phrases are beautiful. And yet, to a great extent, their sound is but the echo of an empty drum. Bengalis say that Tagore cannot be translated into English. Obviously, he can be but at what cost to the lyric beauty and enduring meaning?

I do blame the translation, that it feels more like a Cliff Notes book than a work of art. Even though the translator was the author himself in 1914. Nevertheless, he warns that his English "translations are not always literal--the originals being sometimes abridged and sometimes paraphrased."

You feel the vibrations of Tagore's bells but are deaf to the peal.

[Tavleen Kaur (Travelling Through Words)]

"Does the earth, like a harp, shiver into songs with the touch of my feet?

Is it true that the dewdrops fall from the eyes of, night when I am seen, and the morning light is glad when it wraps my body round?

It is true, is it true, that your love travelled alone through ages and world's in search of me?

That when you found me at last, your age-long desire found utter peace in my gentle speech and my eyes and lips and flowing hair?"

The Gardener by Rabindranath Tagore is a collection of eighty-five translated Bengali poems. It is one of the most beautiful collections of poetry I have ever read. I absolutely cannot wait to read more of Tagore.