Rabindranath Tagore
Rabindranath Tagore
Rabindranath Tagore FRAS, also written Ravīndranātha Thākura, sobriquet Gurudev, was a Bengali polymath who reshaped Bengali literature and music, as well as Indian art with Contextual Modernism in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Author of Gitanjali and its "profoundly sensitive, fresh and beautiful verse", he became the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913. In translation his poetry was viewed as spiritual and mercurial; however, his "elegant prose and magical poetry" remain largely unknown...
NationalityIndian
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth7 May 1861
CityKolkata, India
CountryIndia
Someone spilled the ink on the canvas. Now boasts: "I painted the night".
In the world's audience hall, the simple blade of grass sits on the same carpet with the sunbeams, and the stars of midnight.
The first flower that blossomed on this earth was an invitation to an unborn song.
O Woman, you are not merely the handiwork of God, but also of men; these are ever endowing you with beauty from their own hearts ... You are one-half woman and one-half dream.
That which oppresses me, is it my soul trying to come out in the open, or the soul of the world knocking at my heart for entrance?
Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.
The danger inherent in all force grows stronger when it is likely to gain success, for then it becomes temptation.
I am restless. I am athirst for faraway things. My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance. O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute! I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in this spot evermore.
By unrighteousness man prospers, gains what appears desirable, conquer enemies, but perishes a the root.
I am hidden in your heart, O Flower.
The pious sectarian is proud because he is confident of his right of possession in God. The man of devotion is meek because he is conscious of God's right of love over his life and soul.
Alas, why are my nights all thus lost? Ah, why do I ever miss his sight whose breath touches my sleep?
By touching you may kill, by keeping away you may possess.
The burden of the self is lightened with I laugh at myself.