Defamation
Whey are those tears in your eyes, my child?
How horrid of them to be always scolding you for nothing!
You have stained your fingers and face with ink while writing-
is that why they call you dirty?
O, fie! Would they dare to call the full moon dirty because
it has smudged its face with ink?
For every little trifle they blame you, my child. They are
ready to find fault for nothing.
You tore your clothes while playing-is that why they call you
untidy?
O, fie! What would they call an autumn morning that smiles
through its ragged clouds?
Take no heed of what they say to you, my child.
They make a long list of your misdeeds.
Everybody knows how you love sweet things-is that why they
call you greedy?
O, fie! What then would they call us who love you?
Rabindranath Tagore
D'autres poésies de Rabindranath Tagore
A Moments Indulgence
I ask for a moment's indulgence to sit by thy side. The works...
Authorship
You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I...
Baby's Way
If baby only wanted to, he could fly up to heaven this...
Baby's World
I wish I could take a quiet corner in the heart of my baby's...
Beggarly Heart
When the heart is hard and parched up,
come upon me with...
Benediction
Bless this little heart, this white soul that has won the kiss...
Brink Of Eternity
In desperate hope I go and search for her
in all the...
Chain Of Pearls
Mother, I shall weave a chain of pearls for thy neck
with...
Closed Path
I thought that my voyage had come to its end
at the last...
Clouds and Waves
Mother, the folk who live up in the clouds call out to me-
Précédentes poésies
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought (Sonnet 30)
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up...
When that I was and a little tiny boy
When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the...
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes (Sonnet 29)
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone...
Under the Greenwood Tree
Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
The Quality of Mercy
The quality of mercy is not strain'd.
It droppeth as the...

