An analysis of Tagore's English short poems
Gardener 16
Gardener Ji 16
Lan Bindra Nas Tagore
Robin Delanat? Tagore
Hand in hand, eyes lingering on eyes;
Holding hands, staring at each other,
Thus began the record of our hearts.
Thus began the record of our hearts.
This is the moonlit night in March;
It's a moonlit night in March,
The air is filled with the fragrance of henna;
The air is filled with the fragrance of henna,
My flute was forgotten on the ground.
My flute fell to the ground,
Your wreath is not ready yet.
Your wreath is not woven.
The love between you and me is simple as a song.
The love between you and me is as simple as a song.
Your saffron veil intoxicated me.
Your saffron veil intoxicated me.
The jasmine wreath you knitted for me made my heart surge like a compliment.
The jasmine wreath you knitted for me made my heart tremble, as if I had been praised.
This is a game of giving and keeping, revealing and screening again;
This is a game that you want to give away and hide;
Some smiles, some shyness,
Some smile, some are shy,
And some sweet and useless struggles.
There are also some sweet and useless struggles.
The love between you and me is simple as a song.
The love between you and me is as simple as a song.
There is no mystery beyond the present;
There is no mystery beyond reality;
Don't struggle for the impossible;
There is no need for the impossible;
There is no shadow behind charm;
There is no hidden shadow behind charm;
Don't grope in the depths of darkness.
There is no groping in the depths of darkness.
The love between you and me is simple as a song.
The love between you and me is as simple as a song.
We will not deviate from all words and fall into eternal silence;
We do not deviate from all words and go into the wrong path of eternal silence;
We will not raise our hands to nothingness and pray for something beyond hope.
We will not reach out to the emptiness and ask for something beyond hope.
We have given and received enough.
What we give and what we get is enough.
We didn't squeeze the joy to the extreme, and squeezed the wine of pain from it.
We have never been so addicted to pleasure that we have squeezed bitter wine out of it.
The love between you and me is simple as a song.
The love between you and me is as simple as a song.
Classical Tagore's English Poetry and Short Poems
Roaming cloud
By Rabindranath Tagore
I am like a remnant cloud in autumn.
Wandering in the sky uselessly, oh, my eternal brilliant sun!
Your touch hasn't melted my steam,
Let me be one with your light,
So I count the months and years apart from you.
If this is your wish, if this is your game,
Then take away my temporary emptiness,
Colour it, gild it,
Let it float in the wanton wind, let it spread in various wonders.
When you want to end the scene at night,
I will melt and disappear into the darkness,
Or it may be in the smile of a white morning,
In pure and transparent coolness.
Swimming clouds
Robin Delanat? Tagore (and)
I am like a remnant cloud in autumn,
Floating helplessly in the sky, ah, my forever shining sun!
Your touch didn't melt my steam,
Let me be one with your brilliance,
So I can calculate how many months or years I have been away from you.
If this is your wish, if this is your game,
So please accept my short emptiness,
Colour it, paint it with real gold,
Let it float in the unscrupulous wind and spread it into various miracles.
If you want to end this game tonight,
I will melt and disappear into the darkness.
Or it's just a white morning smile,
In that cold and pure transparency.
On Tagore's English Poetry
Twelve o'clock direction
Mom, I really want to stop class now. I have been reading all morning.
Mom, I really don't want to do my homework now. I have been studying all morning.
You said it was only twelve o'clock. Suppose it is no longer late; It's only twelve o'clock. Can't you think it's already afternoon?
You said, it's only twelve o'clock. Assuming no later than twelve o'clock; Can't you imagine it's twelve o'clock in the afternoon?
I can easily imagine now that the sun has reached the edge of the rice field and the old fisherman is collecting herbs for her dinner by the pond.
I can easily imagine that now the sun has reached the edge of that rice field and the old fisherman is picking herbs by the pool to prepare for her dinner.
As long as I close my eyes, I can think that the shadow under the Madar tree is getting darker and darker, and the water in the pond looks shiny black.
When I close my eyes, I can think that the shadow under matar tree is darker and the water in the pond looks shiny and black.
If twelve o'clock can come at night, why can't the night come at twelve o'clock?
If twelve o'clock can come in the dark, why can't the night come at twelve o'clock?