Poems by Tagore

[RoyofSupratik]

I will be posting here some of the selected poems of my favourite poet Rabindranath Tagore. These poems were actually written in Bengali and later translated in English. I guess by deciphering these poems you might get some a sort of idea about modern verses of eastern philosophy. Hope you will like them.


Despite misery, death and pain of the estranged heart,
Peace and bliss prevail, hopes galore.
Endless flow of life-stream, sparkling with smiling sun, moon and the stars,
Spring appear enchanting with vibrant colours.
Waves calm down as they rise again,
Flowers fall apart as they bloom again.
Never worn away, nor ceased, nor having slightest depression ever –
To that Completeness, my soul wishes to take refuge beneath.

[RoyofSupratik]

The deer,
The romper of the magic-woods,
Hovering deep with the dreams,
I don't know why, to catch it, do I cry
In vain.

Let it breathe quietly,
I shall only touch it's soul
With the melody of my flute.
Amid gust of wind in the spring and flash -
Message from the sky would be heard,
Heart would be captured unwillingly.
I shall ask from distance, slyly attach by estrangement,
The bonding that has no knots, no attachment.

[ip#677019134220468224]

Wow........ ............ Geetanjali ...

[RoyofSupratik]

A stream of joy & bliss flows through the world.
Its nectar spills, filling the endless sky.
The sun and the moon sip and relish it.
It keeps the eternal flame lit.
Swept by its waves, the earth is fulfilled.

Today, why confine yourself within?
Why remain absorbed in self?
Look around with an open mind,
Forget all your trivial sorrows,
Fill your empty life with love.

[RoyofSupratik]

If they do not answer to your call, walk alone,
If they are afraid and coward mutely facing the wall,
O you of evil luck,
Open your mind and speak out alone.

If they turn away, and desert you when crossing the wilderness,
O you of evil luck,
Crush the thorns under your feet,
And along the blood-lined track travel alone.

If they do not hold up the light
When the night is troubled with storm,
O you of evil luck,
With the thunder flame of pain ignite your own heart
And let it burn alone.

[Coruja-the-Owl]

I don't like this poet at all..

[ip#677019134220468224]

He's a Nobel prize winner and it doesn't matter whether you personally like him or not. You're not required to judge anyone's talent because your own poems aren't striking in anyway.

[Coruja-the-Owl]

He's a Nobel prize winner and it doesn't matter whether you personally like him or not. You're not required to judge anyone's talent because your own poems aren't striking in anyway.

hahahahahahahahahahahhahahahaaha

at least I can write my own poems...and I made no judgement of his work, I said I don't like it. That is not a judgement it is an expression of my own opinion not an attempt to quantify their worth. You on the other hand made a judgement of my poems !!!..I think we are in a free space. I have just as much right to judge your friends work as you have to judge mine. The original poems (of your friend) might be wonderful, I presume they are here in translation...and the translations are turgid. I think it is a shame that you clutter up a creative writing forum with published works..surely a more appropriate place for this might be the literature forum...for example in general people publish their own stuff here and don't put other stuff that can be copied from books and websites.
In fact, what you are doing (publishing someones published works) is presumably in breach of copyright. Unless of course the translations are your own...in which case you are free to publish them, and this is an appropriate place, and that might also explain what I said previously.
Thanks for your comments

[RoyofSupratik]

hahahahahahahahahahahhahahahaaha

at least I can write my own poems...and I made no judgement of his work, I said I don't like it. That is not a judgement it is an expression of my own opinion not an attempt to quantify their worth. You on the other hand made a judgement of my poems !!!..I think we are in a free space. I have just as much right to judge your friends work as you have to judge mine. The original poems (of your friend) might be wonderful, I presume they are here in translation...and the translations are turgid. I think it is a shame that you clutter up a creative writing forum with published works..surely a more appropriate place for this might be the literature forum...for example in general people publish their own stuff here and don't put other stuff that can be copied from books and websites.
In fact, what you are doing (publishing someones published works) is presumably in breach of copyright. Unless of course the translations are your own...in which case you are free to publish them, and this is an appropriate place, and that might also explain what I said previously.
Thanks for your comments

You are right, off course art is about creation first. And it always welcomes individual view and criticism. I have just collected selected poems from different books of Tagore , mainly that talks about eastern philosophy. I didn't went into romanticism for example.

And its also true that translation ruins the essence of the poem, specially of different cultures that is alien to English language. Just tried to post few of my favourite poems out of the lot. Neither the poems not its translations are my creation- as said in the title.

By the way, classification/declassification of literature, intellectual property rights, patents and copyrights. So much so western philosophy!! These poems has no copyrights. We can translate them the way we want, give it own tune, make music and sell it, and contents are freely available including translation through your own thoughts and views.

[Coruja-the-Owl]

I have never written anything that was worth anything...but I would hate to discover some shifty beggar taking things I wrote and translating them...and making money out of them...It would be theft. Most artists live in penury. Most writers too. I read recently that of published authors in France the annual income is less than 1000 euros... that is less than the minimum wage for 1 month for a normal worker. And that only concerns the published authors. There are many that write and fail to publish ever. I read in the same article, that the French authors are earning (on average) twice what the British "published" authors earn....
I know that Tagore died during the second world war. In English speaking countries his works are no longer protected by copyright. In French speaking countries the laws are rather more complex..and he might be...but I'm not sure. Most artists are among the most unscrupulously exploited people, for every Damien Hurst that manages to earn millions..there are how many Van Goghs or Mozarts that die paupers. I don't know what happened to Tagore I hope he enjoyed his success. At that time a Noble was worth something. These days it is worth about a weeks wages for a top football player.
Tagore is often seen as the first Asian to win a Noble...sometimes as the first non-European... actually three Americans won it before him...and the first Indian to win it was Rudyard Kipling (he was born in India...so I guess he would qualify for Indian citizenship..I dunno..maybe you do).
Nevertheless it was certainly a magnificent feat for Tagore to win a Noble...I guess he was lucky I wasn't on the jury, because like I said, I don't like the poems of his you keep putting here, as opposed to putting them on the literature forum, where the belong.

If the poems were published, they had copyrights...the copyrights may well have belonged to the publisher, rather than Tagore himself....This is almost always the case even now, at least for scientific publications, which I know a little bit about.

[ip#677019134220468224]

hahahahahahahahahahahhahahahaaha

at least I can write my own poems...and I made no judgement of his work, I said I don't like it. That is not a judgement it is an expression of my own opinion not an attempt to quantify their worth. You on the other hand made a judgement of my poems !!!..I think we are in a free space. I have just as much right to judge your friends work as you have to judge mine. The original poems (of your friend) might be wonderful, I presume they are here in translation...and the translations are turgid. I think it is a shame that you clutter up a creative writing forum with published works..surely a more appropriate place for this might be the literature forum...for example in general people publish their own stuff here and don't put other stuff that can be copied from books and websites.
In fact, what you are doing (publishing someones published works) is presumably in breach of copyright. Unless of course the translations are your own...in which case you are free to publish them, and this is an appropriate place, and that might also explain what I said previously.
Thanks for your comments

Writing posts in other threads only to hide this one thread shows what you actually want, so there's no need to mix things up. Nobody is fool here. Having an opinion and having a form of hate are different things. You could simply ignore this thread or even if you had to express your dislike, your opinions should have stayed on this thread , but you actually posted in other threads intentionally to hide this thread. This is pure hatred , not a writer's character. I didn't make that post to attack you because you dislike his work , I did that because you were writing "putting this above Tagore" in other threads.

[Coruja-the-Owl]

I want people who write there own poems to have priority on this forum..Lets face it, there are many poets I like ..such as Oscar Wilde, Coleridge, TS Elliot, Philip Larkin...I do not put their poems here because it is not the place for them. If I wanted to put their poems somewhere I would put them on the Literature forum. Where they belong.
And you keep adding poems slowly...to keep going to the top of the pile...to get more attention.

[Bash_di]

Geetanjali is magical.. But I like songs than poems.. I like this song.. Ami chini go chini.. The words are simple but I don't know why, they seem special to me..
"I know you, know you, O' my lady from an alien land
You dwell in an overseas land, O' my lady from an alien land.

I saw you on an autumn dawn, I saw you when a night adorn
I saw you from the depth of my heart, O' my lady from an alien land.

I turn my ears to the sky, listen to strains of your songs that fly
I offer my soul to you, O' my lady from an alien land.

I traveled the land and sea, arrived to a land where I longed to be
I seek refuge at your doorstep,O' my lady from an alien land."

Love Ekla cholo re and Amaro porano Jaha chai.. (Forgot to mention!).

[yacolvich]

#LoveTagore

[aussieinbg]

He's a Nobel prize winner and it doesn't matter whether you personally like him or not.

His poetry "might" be OK in his native Bengali. In English translation, it is nothing short of verbal diarrhoea, cliched even by later 19th century standards on themes that had been exploited and turned into desert wastelands, the poetic equivalent of elevator music, something that an asexualised drugged-out 95 year old great-granny might in the whimper of her eyelids get excited about shortly before her dying breath.

To put it succinctly, reading the verses of Tagore posted so far on here enabled me to feel the sensations of making love to a decomposing corpse without going through the motions of such a hideous act.

A Nobel Prize in literature (or the peace prize for that matter) is no real guarantee of talent or authenticity. Bob Dylan's recent award is testament to that - one of the most overrated singers of the 1960s - or Patrick White in 1973 for such tedious drivel (I can think of at least 10 authors contemporary to him far more worthy of a prize in literature, and that's just Australians).

You're not required to judge anyone's talent because your own poems aren't striking in anyway.

To be frankly honest, his poems, while not perfect, were well and truly a cut above Tagore, far less banal and definitely much more readable. He cuts to the chase and you can sense where you are without the outward lofty pretension. Your nostrils are not filled with the stench of cheap perfumed pungency designed to cut your nose off to spite you and everyone looking in your direction.

At the end of the experience of reading his poems on the forum, I was not left with an overwhelming desire to try to relive those few lost minutes of my life in order to atone for having frittered them away.