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My heart longs to join in thy song, but vainly struggles for a voice.
Though its colour be not deep and its smell be faint, use this flower in thy service and pluck it while there is time.
Open thine eyes and see thy God is not before thee! He is there where the tiller is tilling the hard ground and where the pathmaker is breaking stones. He is with them in sun and in shower, and his garment is covered with dust. Put of thy holy mantle and even like him come down on the dusty soil!
when old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart;
even thus in the depth of my unconsciousness rings the cry—‘I want thee, only thee’.
The sweet, soft freshness that blooms on baby’s limbs—does anybody know where it was hidden so long? Yes, when the mother was a young girl it lay pervading her heart in tender and silent mystery of love—the sweet, soft freshness that has bloomed on baby’s limbs.
When I bring to you coloured toys, my child, I understand why there is such a play of colours on clouds, on water, and why flowers are painted in tints—when I give coloured toys to you, my child. When I sing to make you dance I truly now why there is music in leaves, and why waves send their chorus of voices to the heart of the listening earth—when I sing to make you dance. When I bring sweet things to your greedy hands I know why there is honey in the cup of the flowers and why fruits are secretly filled with sweet juice—when I bring sweet things to your greedy hands. When I kiss your face to
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The word "dusk" in this chapter invoked me to detect similarity between Tagore's lush imagery with that of F. Sionil José in his book of the same name.
Thy world is weaving words in my mind and thy joy is adding music to them.
Even so, in death the same unknown will appear as ever known to me. And because I love this life, I know I shall love death as well. The child cries out when from the right breast the mother takes it away, in the very next moment to find in the left one its consolation.
What made these works more popular in the West is that Tagore wrote and translated the poems on his own. The author was able to manipulate the English words to convey the same meaning as the original Sanskrit.
