Lover's Gifts XXII: I Shall Gladly Suffer
I shall gladly suffer the pride of culture to die out in my house,
if only in some happy future I am born a herd-boy in the Brinda
forest.
The herd-boy who grazes his cattle sitting under the banyan
tree, and idly weaves gunja flowers into garlands, who loves to
splash and plunge in the Jamuna's cool deep stream.
He calls his companions to wake up when morning dawns, and all
the houses in the lane hum with the sound of the churn, clouds of
dust are raised by the cattle, the maidens come out in the
courtyard to milk the king.
As the shadows deepen under the tomal trees, and the dusk
gathers on the river-banks; when the milkmaids, while crossing the
turbulent water, tremble with fear; and loud peacocks, with tails
outspread, dance in the forest, he watchers the summer clouds.
When the April night is sweet as a fresh-blown flower, he
disappears in the forest with a peacock's plume in his hair; the
swing ropes are twined with flowers on the branches; the south wind
throbs with music, and the merry shepherd boys crowd on the banks
of the blue river.
No, I will never be the leader, brothers, of this new age of
new Bengal; I shall not trouble to light the lamp of culture for
the benighted. If only I could be born, under the shady asoka
groves, in some village of Brinda, where milk is churned by the
maidens!
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...
