written by Albert SamainBarbare et somptueux brasier de pierreries,
Le sabre, recourbant sa lame d'acier fin,
Fait luire sur la rouge extase d'un coussin
L'efflorescent trésor de ses orfèvreries.
Il chante l'allégresse atroce des tueries ;
La guerre exalte en lui son orgueil assassin ;
Et les pierres, qu'enroule un fastueux dessin,
Chargent son pommeau d'or de lumières fleuries.
Cependant, sous les feux ivres des diamants
Il souffre, consumé d'héroïques tourments ;
Car sa splendeur oisive est vierge encor d'entailles.
Et, sombre, dévoré d'un désir incessant,
Il couve un vieux poignard tordu par cent batailles,
Qui n'a pour tous joyaux qu'une rouille de sang.
written by Rabindranath Tagore, published on Sun 08.22.2010 at 06:59
I was walking by the road, I do not
know why, when the noonday was past
and bamboo branches rustled in the
wind.
written by Rabindranath Tagore, published on Wed 08.04.2010 at 06:16
I paced alone on the road across the field while the sunset was
hiding its last gold like a miser.
written by Rabindranath Tagore, published on Wed 07.28.2010 at 10:22
Supposing I became a chanpa flower, just for fun, and grew on a
Read poem...written by Rabindranath Tagore, published on Thu 07.01.2010 at 06:27
I shall gladly suffer the pride of culture to die out in my house,
Read poem...written by Rabindranath Tagore, published on Mon 06.28.2010 at 01:05
Life of my life, I shall ever try to keep my body pure, knowing
that thy living touch is upon all my limbs.
written by Rabindranath Tagore, published on Sun 06.27.2010 at 11:43
Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me,
mother dear?
