Get Your Premium Membership

Rabindranath Tagore Short Poems

Famous Short Rabindranath Tagore Poems. Short poetry by famous poet Rabindranath Tagore. A collection of the all-time best Rabindranath Tagore short poems


Friend  Create an image from this poem
by Rabindranath Tagore
 Art thou abroad on this stormy night 
on thy journey of love, my friend? 
The sky groans like one in despair.
I have no sleep tonight.
Ever and again I open my door and look out on the darkness, my friend! I can see nothing before me.
I wonder where lies thy path! By what dim shore of the ink-black river, by what far edge of the frowning forest, through what mazy depth of gloom art thou threading thy course to come to me, my friend?



by Rabindranath Tagore
 I must launch out my boat.
The languid hours pass by on the shore---Alas for me! The spring has done its flowering and taken leave.
And now with the burden of faded futile flowers I wait and linger.
The waves have become clamorous, and upon the bank in the shady lane the yellow leaves flutter and fall.
What emptiness do you gaze upon! Do you not feel a thrill passing through the air with the notes of the far-away song floating from the other shore?

by Rabindranath Tagore
 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.

Flower  Create an image from this poem
by Rabindranath Tagore
 Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it 
droop and drop into the dust.
I may not find a place in thy garland, but honour it with a touch of pain from thy hand and pluck it.
I fear lest the day end before I am aware, and the time of offering go by.
Though its colour be not deep and its smell be faint, use this flower in thy service and pluck it while there is time.

by Rabindranath Tagore
 I thought that my voyage had come to its end 
at the last limit of my power,---that the path before me was closed, 
that provisions were exhausted 
and the time come to take shelter in a silent obscurity.
But I find that thy will knows no end in me.
And when old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart; and where the old tracks are lost, new country is revealed with its wonders.

by Rabindranath Tagore
 If the day is done, 
if birds sing no more, 
if the wind has flagged tired, 
then draw the veil of darkness thick upon me, 
even as thou hast wrapt the earth with the coverlet of sleep 
and tenderly closed the petals of the drooping lotus at dusk.

by Rabindranath Tagore
 On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time.
But it is never lost, my lord.
Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands.
Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts, buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness.
I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed and imagined all work had ceased.
In the morning I woke up and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.



by Rabindranath Tagore
 By all means they try to hold me secure who love me in this world.
But it is otherwise with thy love which is greater than theirs, and thou keepest me free.
Lest I forget them they never venture to leave me alone.
But day passes by after day and thou art not seen.
If I call not thee in my prayers, if I keep not thee in my heart, thy love for me still waits for my love.

by Rabindranath Tagore
 Mother, I shall weave a chain of pearls for thy neck 
with my tears of sorrow.
The stars have wrought their anklets of light to deck thy feet, but mine will hang upon thy breast.
Wealth and fame come from thee and it is for thee to give or to withhold them.
But this my sorrow is absolutely mine own, and when I bring it to thee as my offering thou rewardest me with thy grace.

by Rabindranath Tagore
 She is near to my heart as the meadow-flower to the earth; she is
sweet to me as sleep is to tired limbs.
My love for her is my life flowing in its fullness, like a river in autumn flood, running with serene abandonment.
My songs are one with my love, like the murmur of a stream, that sings with all its waves and current.

by Rabindranath Tagore
 Let only that little be left of me 
whereby I may name thee my all.
Let only that little be left of my will whereby I may feel thee on every side, and come to thee in everything, and offer to thee my love every moment.
Let only that little be left of me whereby I may never hide thee.
Let only that little of my fetters be left whereby I am bound with thy will, and thy purpose is carried out in my life---and that is the fetter of thy love.

by Rabindranath Tagore
 I would ask for still more, if I had the sky with all its stars,
and the world with its endless riches; but I would be content with
the smallest corner of this earth if only she were mine.

by Rabindranath Tagore
 Come to my garden walk, my love.
Pass by the fervid flowers that press themselves on your sight.
Pass them by, stopping at some chance joy, which like a sudden wonder of sunset illumines, yet elude.
For lover's gift is shy, it never tells its name, it flits across the shade, spreading a shiver of joy along the dust.
Overtake it or miss it for ever.
But a gift that can be grasped is merely a frail flower, or a lamp with flame that will flicker.

Fool  Create an image from this poem
by Rabindranath Tagore
 O Fool, try to carry thyself upon thy own shoulders! 
O beggar, to come beg at thy own door! 

Leave all thy burdens on his hands who can bear all, 
and never look behind in regret.
Thy desire at once puts out the light from the lamp it touches with its breath.
It is unholy---take not thy gifts through its unclean hands.
Accept only what is offered by sacred love.

by Rabindranath Tagore
 He whom I enclose with my name is weeping in this dungeon.
I am ever busy building this wall all around; and as this wall goes up into the sky day by day I lose sight of my true being in its dark shadow.
I take pride in this great wall, and I plaster it with dust and sand lest a least hole should be left in this name; and for all the care I take I lose sight of my true being.

by Rabindranath Tagore
 A message came from my youth of vanished days, saying, " I wait for
you among the quivering of unborn May, where smiles ripen for tears
and hours ache with songs unsung.
" It says, "Come to me across the worn-out track of age, through the gates of death.
For dreams fade, hopes fail, the fathered fruits of the year decay, but I am the eternal truth, and you shall meet me again and again in your voyage of life from shore to shore.
"

by Rabindranath Tagore
 Peace, my heart, let the time for
the parting be sweet.
Let it not be a death but completeness.
Let love melt into memory and pain into songs.
Let the flight through the sky end in the folding of the wings over the nest.
Let the last touch of your hands be gentle like the flower of the night.
Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a moment, and say your last words in silence.
I bow to you and hold up my lamp to light you on your way.

by Rabindranath Tagore
 The road is my wedded companion.
She speaks to me under my feet all day, she sings to my dreams all night.
My meeting with her had no beginning, it begins endlessly at each daybreak, renewing its summer in fresh flowers and songs, and her every new kiss is the first kiss to me.
The road and I are lovers.
I change my dress for her night after night, leaving the tattered cumber of the old in the wayside inns when the day dawns.

by Rabindranath Tagore
 Art thou abroad on this stormy night 
on thy journey of love, my friend? 
The sky groans like one in despair.
I have no sleep tonight.
Ever and again I open my door and look out on the darkness, my friend! I can see nothing before me.
I wonder where lies thy path! By what dim shore of the ink-black river, by what far edge of the frowning forest, through what mazy depth of gloom art thou threading thy course to come to me, my friend?

by Rabindranath Tagore
 Then finish the last song and let us
leave.
Forget this night when the night is no more.
Whom do I try to clasp in my arms? Dreams can never be made captive.
My eager hands press emptiness to my heart and it bruises my breast.

O Fool  Create an image from this poem
by Rabindranath Tagore
 O Fool, try to carry thyself upon thy own shoulders! 
O beggar, to come beg at thy own door! 

Leave all thy burdens on his hands who can bear all, 
and never look behind in regret.
Thy desire at once puts out the light from the lamp it touches with its breath.
It is unholy---take not thy gifts through its unclean hands.
Accept only what is offered by sacred love.

by Rabindranath Tagore
 There is a looker-on who sits behind my eyes.
I seems he has seen things in ages and worlds beyond memory's shore, and those forgotten sights glisten on the grass and shiver on the leaves.
He has seen under new veils the face of the one beloved, in twilight hours of many a nameless star.
Therefore his sky seems to ache with the pain of countless meetings and partings, and a longing pervades this spring breeze, -the longing that is full of the whisper of ages without beginning.

by Rabindranath Tagore
 When she passed by me with quick
steps, the end of her skirt touched
me.
From the unknown island of a heart came a sudden warm breath of spring.
A flutter of a flitting touch brushed me and vanished in a moment, like a torn flower petal blown in the breeze.
It fell upon my heart like a sigh of her body and whisper of her heart.

by Rabindranath Tagore
 Yes, I know, this is nothing but thy love, 
O beloved of my heart---this golden light that dances upon the leaves, 
these idle clouds sailing across the sky, 
this passing breeze leaving its coolness upon my forehead.
The morning light has flooded my eyes---this is thy message to my heart.
Thy face is bent from above, thy eyes look down on my eyes, and my heart has touched thy feet.

by Rabindranath Tagore
 Say of him what you please, but I know my child's failings.
I do not love him because he is good, but because he is my little child.
How should you know how dear he can be when you try to weigh his merits against his faults? When I must punish him he becomes all the more a part of my being.
When I cause his tears to come my heart weeps with him.
I alone have a right to blame and punish, for he only may chastise who loves.


BudgieParrotLove.com