Lover's Gifts XIX: It Is Written in the Book
It is written in the book that Man, when fifty, must leave the
noisy world, to go to the forest seclusion. But the poet proclaims
that the forest hermitage is only for the young. For it is the
birthplace of flowers and the haunt of birds and bees; and hidden
hooks are waiting there for the thrill of lovers' whispers. There
the moon-light, that is all one kiss for the malati flowers, has
its deep message, but those who understand it are far below fifty.
And alas, youth is inexperienced and wilful, therefore it is
but meet that the old should take charge of the household, and the
young take to the seclusion of forest shades and the severe
discipline of courting.
Rabindranath Tagore
Vous avez aimé cette poésie ? faites la connaître !
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...
