It's my own anklet that makes me shy.
When I stood on the balcony, listening to his footsteps, the leaves didn't shake, and the river was still like a sword on the knee of the sleeping sentry.
This is my own heartbeat. I don't know how to make it quiet.
When my love comes, sit beside me, when my body trembles, my eyelids droop, the night deepens, the wind blows out the lights, and the clouds drag over the veil on the stars.
It's the baby on my chest that shines. I don't know how to hide it.
If you are busy filling water bottles, come on, come to my lake.
The lake will surround your feet and whisper its secrets.
There is the shadow of the coming rain cloud on the beach, and the cloud hangs on the green line of the trees, like the thick hair on your eyebrows.
I am deeply familiar with the rhythm of your footsteps, knocking in my heart.
Come on, come to my lake, if you must fill the water bottle.
If you want to do nothing, let your water bottle float on the water. Come on, come to my lake.
The grass slopes are green and there are countless wild flowers.
Your thoughts will fly out of your black eyes, just like birds fly out of their nests.
Your veil will fall to your feet.
Come on, if you want to do nothing, come to my lake.
If you want to jump into the water without swimming, come on, come to my lake.
Leave your blue silk scarf on the shore; Blue water will not pass you, nor will it drown you.
The waves will tiptoe to kiss your neck and whisper in your ear.
Come on, if you want to jump into the water, come to my lake.
If you want to die crazy, come on, come to my lake.
Cold and bottomless.
It is as dark as dreamless sleep.
In its depths, night is day and songs are silence.
Come on, if you want to die, come to my lake.
I didn't ask for anything, just standing behind a tree at the edge of the forest.
Tiredness still lingers in the eyes of dawn, crying in the air.
The lazy breath of wet grass hangs in the mist on the ground.
Under the banyan tree, you milk with your soft hands like cream.
I stood still.
I didn't say a word. It's a bird singing in the thick leaves.
Mango trees spread flowers on the village road, and bees will buzz.
The temple of Shiva near the pond opened and the worshippers began to sing.
You put the jar on your knee and milk it.
I stood there with an empty bucket.
I didn't come near you.
The sky woke up with the gong in the temple.
The dust in the street fluttered under the driven cow's hoof.
Women came from the river with bubbling water bottles on their waists.
Your bracelet jingled and the foam overflowed the edge of the jar.
The morning light is fading away, and I am not near you.
I walked by the roadside, I don't know why, it's past noon, and bamboo branches rustle in the wind.
Oblique shadow stretched out his arm to hold streamer's foot.
Cuckoo is tired of singing.
I walked on the side of the road, I don't know why.
The low shade covered the hut by the water. Someone is busy at work, and her bracelet is playing music in a corner.
I stood in front of the hut, I don't know why.
The winding path passes through a mustard field and several layers of mango trees.
It passes through the village temple and the market in Watou.
I stopped in front of this hut, and I don't know why.
A few years ago, on a windy day in March, spring whispered wearily and mango flowers fell to the ground.
The spray jumped over the copper bottle standing on the steps of the ferry.
I think it's windy in March. I don't know why.
The shadow is deeper, and the ox returns to the pillar.
The deserted pasture was pale and the villagers waited by the river.
I walked back slowly, I don't know why.
I run in the shade like a musk deer, and I am crazy about my fragrance.
The night is in mid-May, and the breeze is the breeze in the south.
I lost my way, I wandered, I pursued what I couldn't get, and I got what I didn't pursue.
The image of my own wishes emerged from my heart and danced.
The flashing image passed by.
I tried to hold on to it, but it dodged and caused me to fly away.
I pursue what I can't get, and I get what I don't pursue.
6 hand in hand, eyes in love; This began the record of our hearts.
This is the moonlit night in March; The air smells of impatiens; My flute was thrown on the ground, and your flowers were not woven well.
The love between you and me is as simple as a song.
Your orange veil charmed my eyes.
The jasmine wreath you knitted for me made my heart tremble, as if I had been praised.
This is a game of giving and staying, hiding and showing; Some smiles, some shyness, and some sweet and useless obstacles.
The love between you and me is as simple as a song.
There is no mystery beyond the present; Don't force the impossible; There is no shadow behind charm; There is no exploration in the dark.
The love between you and me is as simple as a song.
We didn't go out of all languages into eternal silence; We didn't raise our hands to the sky except hope.
We give, we get, that's enough.
We didn't grind happiness into powder to extract the wine of pain.
The love between you and me is as simple as a song.
Rabindranath Tagore (186 1 year-1941year) is a famous Indian poet, writer, social activist, philosopher and Indian nationalist. 1861On May 7th, Rabindranath Tagore was born into a wealthy aristocratic family in Kolkata. 19 13 years, together with gitanjali, he became the first Asian to win the Nobel Prize in Literature. His poems contain profound religious and philosophical views, and Tagore's poems enjoy epic status in India, such as Gitanjaly, Birds, Sand in the Eyes, Four Men, Family and the World, Gardeners Collection, New Moon, The Last Poetry, Gora and Crisis of Civilization.