time enough, Rabindranath Tagore

The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough. 

Rabindranath Tagore

Love’s Question, Rabindranath Tagore : good questíon

Love’s Question

And is this all true,
My ever-loving friend?
That the lightning-flash of the light in my eyes
Makes the clouds in your heart explode and blaze.

Is this true?
That my sweet lips are red as a blushing new bride,
My ever-loving friend,
Is this true?
 
That a tree of paradise flowers within me,

That my footsteps ring like vinās beneath me,
Is this true?
That the night sheds drops of dew at the sight of me,
That the dawn surrounds me with light from delight in me,
Is this true?

That the touch of my hot cheek intoxicates the breeze,
My ever-loving friend,
Is this true?
That daylight hides in the dark of my hair,
That my arms hold life and death in their power,

Is this true?
That the earth can be wrapped in the end of my sari,
That my voice makes the world fall silent to hear me,
Is this true?
That the universe is nothing but me and what loves me,

My ever-loving friend,
Is this true?
 
That for me alone your love has been waiting
Through worlds and ages awake and wandering,
Is this true?

That my voice, eyes, lips have brought you relief,
In a trice, from the cycle of life after life,
Is this true?
That you read on my soft forehead infinite Truth,
My ever-loving friend,

Is this true?

Palm Tree, Rabindranath Tagore

Palm-tree

Palm-tree: single-legged giant,
topping the other trees,
peering at the firmament –
It longs to pierce the black cloud-ceiling

and fly away, away,
if only it had wings.
The tree seems to express its wish
in the tossing of its head:
its fronds heave and swish –

It thinks, Maybe my leaves are feathers,
and noting stops me now
from rising on their flutter.
All day the fronds on the windblown tree
soar and flap and shudder

as though it thinks it can fly,
As though it wanders in the skies,
travelling who knows where,
wheeling past the stars –
And then as soon as the wind dies down,

the fronds subside, subside:
the mind of the tree returns
To earth, recalls that earth is its mother:
and then it likes once more
its earthly corner.

Give me strength, Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

Give Me Strength

This is my prayer to thee, my lord—-strike,
strike at the root of penury in my heart.

Give me the strength lightly to bear my joys and sorrows.

Give me the strength to make my love fruitful in service.

Give me the strength never to disown the poor or bend my knees before insolent might.

Give me the strength to raise my mind high above daily trifles.

And give me the strength to surrender my strength to thy will with love.

Come and hire me, Rabindranath Tagore

"Come and hire me," I cried, while in the morning I was walking on the stone-paved road. 
Sword in hand, the King came in his chariot. 
He held my hand and said, "I will hire you with my power." 
But his power counted for nought, and he went away in his chariot. 

In the heat of the midday the houses stood with shut doors. 
I wandered along the crooked lane. 
An old man came out with his bag of gold. 
He pondered and said, "I will hire you with my money." 
He weighed his coins one by one, but I turned away. 

It was evening. The garden hedge was all aflower. 
The fair maid came out and said, "I will hire you with a smile." 
Her smile paled and melted into tears, and she went back alone into the dark. 

The sun glistened on the sand, and the sea waves broke waywardly. 
A child sat playing with shells. 
He raised his head and seemed to know me, and said, "I hire you with nothing." 
From thenceforward that bargain struck in child's play made me a free man.