Tagore's English poetry anthology I came out on my way to a tryst alone.
I went to the tryst alone.
But who is following me in the silent darkness?
Who follows me in the dark silence?
I dodged to avoid his appearance, but I didn't dodge him.
I walked away from him, but I couldn't escape.
He strutted and made the dust fly; Everything I say, he uses his loud voice.
He strutted and made the ground dusty; Everything I said was mixed with his crying.
He is my own ego, my Lord, and he knows no shame; But I am ashamed to come to your door with him.
He is my self, my Lord, and he is shameless; But I'm embarrassed to go to your house with him.
Tagore's English Poetry II I attached it under my name. He is crying in this dungeon.
The man I imprisoned in my name was crying in prison.
I am always busy building this wall around;
I build walls every day. When this wall rises into the sky,
As this wall soars into the sky day by day, I can't see my real existence in its shadow.
The true self was blocked by the shadow of the high wall and disappeared.
I am proud of the Great Wall. I daub it with dust and sand to avoid leaving a small hole in the name.
I am proud of this high wall. I put sand on it for fear that the name would crack.
Although I am cautious, I still can't see my real existence.
I've worked so hard that I can't see myself.
Tagore's English poetry collection "Three Stubbornness" is a shackle, but when I try to get rid of them, my heart hurts.
The net is tough, but it hurts when you want to tear it.
Freedom is everything I want, but I am ashamed of wanting freedom.
I just want to be free, but I am ashamed to hope for freedom.
I'm sure you are priceless wealth, and you are my best friend, but I can't bear to sweep away the gold foil in my room.
I know priceless treasures are around you, and you are my best friend, but I don't have the heart to tidy up my room full of tacky things.
The shroud that covers me is the shroud of dust and death; I hate it, but embrace it with love.
I am covered with dust and death; I hate it, but I love it.
My debt is great, my failure is great, and my shame is secret and heavy; However, when I came to ask for blessings, I was afraid that my prayers would be answered.
I am in debt, my failure is huge, and my shame is hidden and profound; But when I came to pray for my blessing, I was afraid that my prayer would come true.
Tagore's English Poetry Collection 4 Light, Oh, where is the light? Light it with the burning fire of desire!
Lights, where are the lights? Light it with a burning torch of desire!
The lamp is there, but there is no flame-is this your destiny, my heart?
The lamp is here, but there is no flame-is this your destiny, my heart!
Ah, death is better for you!
You might as well die!
Suffering knocks on your door, and she says, Your Lord is awake, and he calls you to a date of love in the dark.
Sorrow knocks at your door, and she sends word that your Lord is awake. He asked you to date in the dark.
The sky is overcast and the rain keeps falling.
Clouds covered the sky and it kept raining.
I don't know what is stirring in my heart-I don't know its meaning.
I don't know what bothers me-I don't know its meaning.
A flash of lightning cast a deeper shadow on my sight, and my heart groped for the road to find the place where the music of the night called me.
A flash of lightning left a deeper darkness in my sight, and my heart groped for the way that the music of that night called me.
Light, oh, where is the light!
Lights, where are the lights?
Light it with the burning fire of desire!
Light it with a burning torch of desire!
Thunder rumbled and the wind roared across the void.
Thunder rumbled and the wind roared.
The night is as black as a black stone.
The night is as black as a black rock.
Don't let time pass in the dark. Light the lamp of love with your life.
Don't let time pass in the dark. Light the lamp of love with your life.
Tagore's English Poetry He rode a camel and sat beside me, but I didn't know him.
He came and sat next to me, but I didn't wake up.
What a terrible sleep, poor me!
What a hateful sleep, alas, unfortunate me!
In the dead of night, he came; He has a harp in his hand, and my dream resonates with its melody.
He came in the quiet night; Holding a piano in my hand, my dream soul and his music sounded.
Alas, why have my nights been lost like this?
Alas, why is it so wasteful every night?
Ah, why did I miss his sight? His breath touched my sleep.
Oh, his breathing touched my sleep. Why can't I see his face?