Lover's Gifts XLII: Are You a Mere Picture
Are you a mere picture, and not as true as those stars, true as
this dust? They throb with the pulse of things, but you are
immensely aloof in your stillness, painted form.
The day was when you walked with me, your breath warm, your
limbs singing of life. My world found its speech in your voice, and
touched my heart with your face. You suddenly stopped in your walk,
in the shadow-side of the Forever, and I went on alone.
Life, like a child, laughs, shaking its rattle of death as it
runs; it beckons me on, I follow the unseen; but you stand there,
where you stopped behind that dust and those stars; and you are a
mere picture.
No, it cannot be. Had the life-flood utterly stopped in you,
it would stop the river in its flow, and the foot-fall of dawn in
her cadence of colours. Had the glimmering dusk of your hair
vanished in the hopeless dark, the woodland shade of summer would
die with its dreams.
Can it be true that I forgot you? We haste on without heed,
forgetting the flowers on the roadside hedge. Yet they breathe
unaware into our forgetfulness, filling it with music. You have
moved from my world, to take seat at the root of my life, and
therefore is this forgetting-remembrance lost in its own depth.
You are no longer before my songs, but one with them. You came
to me with the first ray of dawn. I lost you with the last gold of
evening. Ever since I am always finding you through the dark. No,
you are no mere picture.
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...
