Rabindranath Tagore

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Today, we note the birth date of Rabindranath Tagore (May 7, 1861 – August 7, 1941), Bengali polymath who worked as a poet, writer, playwright, composer, philosopher, social reformer and painter.

He reshaped Bengali literature and music as well as Indian art with Contextual Modernism in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Author of the "profoundly sensitive, fresh and beautiful" poetry of Gitanjali, he became in 1913 the first non-European and the first lyricist to win the Nobel Prize in Literature.

Tagore's poetic songs were viewed as spiritual and mercurial; however, his "elegant prose and magical poetry" remain largely unknown outside Bengal. He was a fellow of the Royal Asiatic Society.

Here are four poems in English translation by Rabindranath Tagore for your consideration:

A Hundred Years Hence

Who it is

With such curiosity

Reads my poems

A hundred years hence!

Shall I be able to send you

An iota of joy of this fresh spring morning

The flower that blooms today

The songs that the birds sing

The glow of today’s setting sun

Filled with my feelings of love?

Yet for a moment

Open up your southern gate

And take your seat at the window

Look at the far horizon

And visualize in your mind’s eye —

One day a hundred years ago

A restless ecstasy drifted from the skies

And touched the heart of this world

The early spring mad with joy

Knew no bounds

Spreading its restless wings

The southern breeze blew

Carrying the scent of flowers’ pollen

All on a sudden soon

They coloured the world with a youthful glow

A hundred years ago.

That day a young poet kept awake

With an excited heart filled with songs

With so much ardour

Anxious to express so many things

Like buds of flowers straining to bloom

One day a hundred years ago.

A hundred years hence

What young poet

Sings songs in your homes!

For him

I send my tidings of joy of this spring.

Let it echo for a moment

In your spring, in your heartbeats,

In the humming of the bees

In the rustling of the leaves

A hundred years hence.

--Rabindranath Tagore

______________________

At The End Of The Day

I know, this day will come to an end

At the end of the day

Wanly smiling

The dying sun will look at my face

Bidding me its last farewell.

The flute will play by the side of the way

The cattle will graze on the banks of the river

In the courtyard the children will play

And the birds will sing -

Still the day will come to an end.

To you I only pray –

Before I go let me know

Looking at the sky

Why mother earth so green

Gave me a call

Why the silence of the night

Told me the stories of the stars

Why the lights of the day

Raised waves in my mind –

This is what I pray.

When on this earth

The game of my life will be over

In a harmony may I stop my song

May I fill with fruits and flowers

The trays of the seasons.

May I see you in the light of my life

And give you my garland –

When I shall end my days on this earth.

--Rabindranath Tagore

_______________________

Freedom

Freedom from fear is the freedom

I claim for you my motherland!

Freedom from the burden of the ages, bending your head,

breaking your back, blinding your eyes to the beckoning

call of the future;

Freedom from the shackles of slumber wherewith

you fasten yourself in night's stillness,

mistrusting the star that speaks of truth's adventurous paths;

freedom from the anarchy of destiny

whole sails are weakly yielded to the blind uncertain winds,

and the helm to a hand ever rigid and cold as death.

Freedom from the insult of dwelling in a puppet's world,

where movements are started through brainless wires,

repeated through mindless habits,

where figures wait with patience and obedience for the

master of show,

to be stirred into a mimicry of life.

--Rabindranath Tagore

____________________-

Give Me Strength

This is my prayer to thee, my lord—-strike,

strike at the root of penury in my heart.

Give me the strength lightly to bear my joys and sorrows.

Give me the strength to make my love fruitful in service.

Give me the strength never to disown the poor or bend my knees before insolent might.

Give me the strength to raise my mind high above daily trifles.

And give me the strength to surrender my strength to thy will with love.

--Rabindranath Tagore

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