Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

“That I should make much of myself and turn it on all sides, thus casting coloured shadows on thy radiance---such is thy maya.

Thou settest a barrier in thine own being and then callest thy severed self in myriad notes. This thy self-separation has taken body in me.

The poignant song is echoed through all the sky in many-coloured tears and smiles, alarms and hopes; waves rise up and sink again, dreams break and form. In me is thy own defeat of self.

This screen that thou hast raised is painted with innumerable figures with the brush of the night and the day. Behind it thy seat is woven in wondrous mysteries of curves, casting away all barren lines of straightness.

The great pageant of thee and me has overspread the sky. With the tune of thee and me all the air is vibrant, and all ages pass with the hiding and seeking of thee and me.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“He it is, the innermost one, who awakens my being with his deep hidden touches.

He it is who puts his enchantment upon these eyes and joyfully plays on the chords of my heart in varied cadence of pleasure and pain.

He it is who weaves the web of this maya in evanescent hues of gold and silver, blue and green, and lets peep out through the folds his feet, at whose touch I forget myself.

Days come and ages pass, and it is ever he who moves my heart in many a name, in many a guise, in many a rapture of joy and of sorrow.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“The day is no more, the shadow is upon the earth. It is time that I go to the stream to fill my pitcher.

The evening air is eager with the sad music of the water. Ah, it calls me out into the dusk. In the lonely lane there is no passer-by, the wind is up, the ripples are rampant in the river.

I know not if I shall come back home. I know not whom I shall chance to meet. There at the fording in the little boat the unknown man plays upon his lute.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“Thy gifts to us mortals fulfil all our needs and yet run back to thee undiminished.

The river has its everyday work to do and hastens through fields and hamlets; yet its incessant stream winds towards the washing of thy feet.

The flower sweetens the air with its perfume; yet its last service is to offer itself to thee.

Thy worship does not impoverish the world.

From the words of the poet men take what meanings please them; yet their last meaning points to thee.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“Day after day, O lord of my life, shall I stand before thee face to face. With folded hands, O lord of all worlds, shall I stand before thee face to face.

Under thy great sky in solitude and silence, with humble heart shall I stand before thee face to face.

In this laborious world of thine, tumultuous with toil and with struggle, among hurrying crowds shall I stand before thee face to face.

And when my work shall be done in this world, O King of kings, alone and speechless shall I stand before thee face to face.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“I know thee as my God and stand apart---I do not know thee as my own and come closer. I know thee as my father and bow before thy feet---I do not grasp thy hand as my friend's.

I stand not where thou comest down and ownest thyself as mine, there to clasp thee to my heart and take thee as my comrade.

Thou art the Brother amongst my brothers, but I heed them not, I divide not my earnings with them, thus sharing my all with thee.

In pleasure and in pain I stand not by the side of men, and thus stand by thee. I shrink to give up my life, and thus do not plunge into the great waters of life.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“When the warriors came out first from their master's hall, where had they hid their power? Where were their armour and their arms?

They looked poor and helpless, and the arrows were showered upon them on the day they came out from their master's hall.

When the warriors marched back again to their master's hall where did they hide their power?

They had dropped the sword and dropped the bow and the arrow; peace was on their foreheads, and they had left the fruits of their life behind them on the day they marched back again to their master's hall.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“In desperate hope I go and search for her in all the corners of my room; I find her not.

My house is small and what once has gone from it can never be regained.

But infinite is thy mansion, my lord, and seeking her I have to come to thy door.

I stand under the golden canopy of thine evening sky and I lift my eager eyes to thy face.

I have come to the brink of eternity from which nothing can vanish---no hope, no happiness, no vision of a face seen through tears.

Oh, dip my emptied life into that ocean, plunge it into the deepest fullness. Let me for once feel that lost sweet touch in the allness of the universe”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“Deity of the ruined temple! The broken strings of Vina sing no more your praise. The bells in the evening proclaim not your time of worship. The air is still and silent about you.

In your desolate dwelling comes the vagrant spring breeze. It brings the tidings of flowers---the flowers that for your worship are offered no more.

Your worshipper of old wanders ever longing for favour still refused. In the eventide, when fires and shadows mingle with the gloom of dust, he wearily comes back to the ruined temple with hunger in his heart.

Many a festival day comes to you in silence, deity of the ruined temple. Many a night of worship goes away with lamp unlit.

Many new images are built by masters of cunning art and carried to the holy stream of oblivion when their time is come.

Only the deity of the ruined temple remains unworshipped in deathless neglect.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“No more noisy, loud words from me---such is my master's will. Henceforth I deal in whispers. The speech of my heart will be carried on in murmurings of a song.

Men hasten to the King's market. All the buyers and sellers are there. But I have my untimely leave in the middle of the day, in the thick of work.

Let then the flowers come out in my garden, though it is not their time; and let the midday bees strike up their lazy hum.

Full many an hour have I spent in the strife of the good and the evil, but now it is the pleasure of my playmate of the empty days to draw my heart on to him; and I know not why is this sudden call to what useless inconsequence!”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“When my play was with thee I never questioned who thou wert. I knew nor shyness nor fear, my life was boisterous.

In the early morning thou wouldst call me from my sleep like my own comrade and lead me running from glade to glade.

On those days I never cared to know the meaning of songs thou sangest to me. Only my voice took up the tunes, and my heart danced in their cadence.

Now, when the playtime is over, what is this sudden sight that is come upon me? The world with eyes bent upon thy feet stands in awe with all its silent stars.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“When I give up the helm I know that the time has come for thee to take it. What there is to do will be instantly done. Vain is this struggle.

Then take away your hands and silently put up with your defeat, my heart, and think it your good fortune to sit perfectly still where you are placed.

These my lamps are blown out at every little puff of wind, and trying to light them I forget all else again and again.

But I shall be wise this time and wait in the dark, spreading my mat on the floor; and whenever it is thy pleasure, my lord, come silently and take thy seat here.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“Ever in my life have I sought thee with my songs. It was they who led me from door to door, and with them have I felt about me, searching and touching my world.

It was my songs that taught me all the lessons I ever learnt; they showed me secret paths, they brought before my sight many a star on the horizon of my heart.

They guided me all the day long to the mysteries of the country of pleasure and pain, and, at last, to what palace gate have the brought me in the evening at the end of my journey?”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“I know that the day will come when
my sight of this earth shall be lost, and
life will take its leave in silence, drawing
the last curtain over my eyes.

Yet stars will watch at night, and
morning rise as before, and hours heave
like sea waves casting up pleasures
and pains.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“Let all the strains of joy mingle in my last song—the joy that makes the earth flow over in the riotous excess of the grass, the joy that sets the twin brothers, life and death, dancing over the wide world, the joy that sweeps in with the tempest, shaking and waking all life with laughter, the joy that sits still with its tears on the open red lotus of pain, and the joy that throws everything it has upon the dust, and knows not a word.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“Let not the hours pass by in the dark. Kindle the lamp of love with thy life.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“Like a flock of homesick cranes flying night and day back to their mountain nests let all my life take its voyage to its eternal home in one salutation to thee'. ...”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“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.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“The sleep that flits on baby's eyes ---
does anybody know from where it comes ?
Yes, there is a rumour that it has its dwelling where,
in the fairy village among shadows of the forest
dimly lit with glow-worms, there hang two timid buds
of enchantment. From there
it comes to kiss baby's eyes.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, GITANJALI: Song Offering: English Edition

“Prisoner, tell me, who was it that bound you?" "It was my master," said the prisoner. "I thought I could outdo everybody in the world in wealth and power, and I amassed in my own treasure-house the money due to my king. When sleep overcame me I lay upon the bed that was for my lord, and on waking up I found I was a prisoner in my own treasure-house." "Prisoner, tell me, who was it that wrought this unbreakable chain?" "It was I," said the prisoner, "who forged this chain very carefully. I thought my invincible power would hold the world captive leaving me in a freedom undisturbed. Thus night and day I worked at the chain with huge fires and cruel hard strokes. When at last the work was done and the links were complete and unbreakable, I found that it held me in its grip.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“I came out alone on my way to my tryst. But who is this that follows me in the silent dark? I move aside to avoid his presence but I escape him not. He makes the dust rise from the earth with his swagger; he adds his loud voice to every word that I utter.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“Misery knocks at thy door, and her message is that thy lord is wakeful, and he calls thee to the love-tryst through the darkness of night. The sky is overcast with clouds and the rain is ceaseless. I know not what this is that stirs in me, â€� I know not its meaning. A moment's flash of lightning drags down a deeper gloom on my sight, and my heart gropes for the path to where the music of the night calls me. Light, oh, where is the light?”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“I surely know my pride will go to the wall, my life will burst its bonds in exceeding pain, and my empty heart will sob out in music like a hollow reed, and the stone will melt in tears.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“He whom I enclose with my name is weeping in this dungeon. I am ever busy building this wall all around; and as this wall goes up into the sky day by day I lose sight of my true being in its dark shadow. I take pride in this great wall, and I plaster it with dust and sand lest a least hole should be left in this name; and for all the care I take I lose sight of my true being.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“Day by day thou art making me worthy of thy full acceptance by refusing me ever and anon, saving me from perils of weak, uncertain desire.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“The question and the cry, “Oh, where?â€� melt into tears of a thousand streams and deluge the world with the flood of the assurance, “I am!”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“Fikrin korkusuz olduÄŸu ve başın dik tutulduÄŸu yerde;
Bilginin serbest olduÄŸu ve »åü²Ô²â²¹nın hususi duvarlarla dar bölmelere ayrılmadığı yerde;
Kelimelerin, doğruluğun derinliğinden meydana çıktığı yerde;
Sa'yin, kollarını kemâle uzattığı yerde;
Berrak ²¹°ìı±ô nehrinin, ölmüş adetlerin hazin çölünde yolunu kaybetmediÄŸi yerde;
Tanrım, sen benim memleketimi, iÅŸte bu hürriyet cennetinde uyandır.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“YolculuÄŸum çok uzun sürdü, onun mesafesi de uzundur.
...Bu, senin en yakınına giden en uzak yoldur. Ve bu, bir ahengin son haddedeki basitliÄŸine götüren en karışık bir sürükleyiÅŸtir. Yolcu, kendi °ì²¹±èısına gelene kadar bütün °ì²¹±èıları çalmalıdır. Ve bir kimse, sonunda en içteki mihraba ulaÅŸmak için bütün dış »åü²Ô²â²¹ları dolaÅŸmalıdır.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“Thou didst not turn in contempt from my childish play among dust, and the steps that I heard in my playroom are the same that are echoing from star to star.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

“Light, or where is the light? Kindle it with the burning fire of
desire!
There is the lamp but never a flicker of a flame � is such
thy fate, my heart! Ah, death were better by far for thee!
Misery knocks at thy door, and her message is that thy lord
is wakeful, and he calls thee to the love-tryst through the
darkness of night.
The sky is overcast with clouds and the rain is ceaseless. I
know not what this is that stirs in me � I know not its meaning.
A moment’s flash of lightning drags down a deeper gloom
on my sight, and my heart gropes for the path to where the
music of the night calls me.
Light, oh where is the light! Kindle it with the burning fire
of desire! It thunders and the wind rushes screaming through
the void. The night is black as a black stone. Let not the hours
pass by in the dark. Kindle the lamp of love with thy life.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali