Long Tagore Poems
Long Tagore Poems. Below are the most popular long Tagore by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tagore poems by poem length and keyword.
The night kissed the fading day With a whisper: "I am death, your mother, From me you will get new birth." by Rabindranath Tagore
we do not ponder about death
until life progresses towards twilight ...
we start reflecting on mortality and death.
many questions arise, float through our mind -
all religions have different interpretations of where we go...
we try to figure out the ultimate truth.
is life only a series of dreams?
a dream which ends, and we become part of the cosmos?
are those stars glistening in the dark,
showering blessings, my loved ones?
what is the point of amassing wealth,
when we leave, we leave bare-handed.
death can be sublime, death can be painful.
we fall in love, we build relationships,
but In Death, we walk alone.
wheel of life never stops ..
a river reaches the ocean
meandering through plains and valleys.
trees flower, seasons change, leaves fall.
Life's journey ends.
Love exists with its splendour,
Compassion,
Kindness,
Honesty, Dreams …
tender Moments linger for infinity,
Death fails to erase life’s legacy.
February 22, 2022
For "F-form -Free Verse - New- Poetry Contest
Theme: Death
Sponsor: Constance La France
SECOND PLACE
Brian Strand Informel Poetry Contest
FIRST PLACE
Gitanjali 11
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/modernization by Michael R. Burch
Leave this vain chanting and singing and counting of beads:
what Entity do you seek in this lonely dark temple corner with all the doors shut?
Open your eyes and see God is not here!
He is there where the tiller tills the hard ground and the paver breaks stones.
He is with them in sun and shower; his garments are filthy with dust.
Shed your immaculate mantle and like him embrace the dust!
Deliverance? Where is this "deliverance" to be found?
Our master himself has joyfully embraced the bonds of creation; he is bound with us all forever!
Cease your meditations, abandon your petals and incense!
What harm is there if your clothes become stained rags?
Meet him in the toil and the sweat of his brow!
These are modern English translations of poems by the great Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941), who has been called the "Bard of Bengal" and "the Bengali Shelley." In 1913 Tagore became the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize in Literature. Tagore was also a notable artist, musician and polymath.
Gitanjali 35
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been divided by narrow domestic walls;
Where words emerge from the depths of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not been lost amid the dreary desert sands of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward into ever-widening thought and action;
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
Keywords/Tags: Translation, Tagore, Bengali, God, Religion, Prayer, Chanting, Singing, Counting, Beads, Dark, Temple, Doors, Shut, Tiller, Ground, Paver, Stones, Sun, Shower, Garments, Clothes, Mantle, Dust, Deliverance, Master, Creation, Unity, Meditation, Petals, Flowers, Incense, Rags, Toil, Sweat, Brow, Work, Labor, Hindi, vain, worship, entity, God, temple, chanting, singing, counting, beads, petals, incense, meditations, tiller, paver, dust, rags, sweat, toil, mrburdu, Tagore, Rabindranath Tagore, India, Indian, poet, Bengali, sea, seashore, children, mother, dog, love, lover, patience, curtain, death
The Seashore Gathering
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
On the seashores of endless worlds, earth's children converge.
The infinite sky is motionless, the restless waters boisterous.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children gather to dance with joyous cries and pirouettes.
They build sand castles and play with hollow shells.
They weave boats out of withered leaves and laughingly float them out over the vast deep.
Earth's children play gaily on the seashores of endless worlds.
They do not know, yet, how to cast nets or swim.
Divers fish for pearls and merchants sail their ships, while earth's children skip, gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They are unaware of hidden treasures, nor do they know how to cast nets, yet.
The sea surges with laughter, smiling palely on the seashore.
Death-dealing waves sing the children meaningless songs, like a mother lullabying her baby's cradle.
The sea plays with the children, smiling palely on the seashore.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children meet.
Tempests roam pathless skies, ships lie wrecked in uncharted waters, death wanders abroad, and still the children play.
On the seashores of endless worlds there is a great gathering of earth's children.
This Dog
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Each morning this dog,
who has become quite attached to me,
sits silently at my feet
until, gently caressing his head,
I acknowledge his company.
This simple recognition gives my companion such joy
he shudders with sheer delight.
Among all languageless creatures
he alone has seen through man entire—
has seen beyond what is good or bad in him
to such a depth he can lay down his life
for the sake of love alone.
Now it is he who shows me the way
through this unfathomable world throbbing with life.
When I see his deep devotion,
his offer of his whole being,
I fail to comprehend...
How, through sheer instinct,
has he discovered whatever it is that he knows?
With his anxious piteous looks
he cannot communicate his understanding
and yet somehow has succeeded in conveying to me
out of the entire creation
the true loveworthiness of man.
"This Dog" appeared in the poetry collection Arogya by Rabindranath Tagore.
1400 year
(A translation effort of a composition of Rabindranath Tagore)
Today. After a hundred years.
You. You are a reader, passionate and avid one.
Resonating in the verses of a poem. Mine.
A curious one.
Today. After a hundred years.
Today. When the new spring sings in the morning chime.
Any of those colors in flora and fauna.
The fragrance, the song of the chirping bird. That wraps today.
With the brightest red among roses in sight, on a wishful flight
I , a vulnerable one, will fail, within,
to belong there in love, with love, that brings of more
Joyous tune along the lifelong shore.
As they will be greeted as yours
Today. After a hundred years. More.
Still you will open the northern door of thine.
And you will gaze there as your life will rejoice in divine.
On that wider horizon, a twilight sky, enlightened
where your verses will find your peace, serene and reigned.
As brimming tears reflect on the tranquil imagination.
Today. After a hundred years more. On a promising morn.
Heaven. A distant tune in flight. Estranged in a world. But not in oblivion.
Mingled in air, a song within souls.
When thy soul rose, in an all-encompassing one.
Those newer days of spring, tied in a chanting knot. In a joyful echo, of a flight of a song.
That song, a fragrant one.
Will find a gentle breeze blowing from the north, of yours. A gentle kind.
That rushes through the colorful sky.
Brushstrokes on a canvass. Colors of reasons. Colors of rhymes.
On that day. A poet was born. With an earnest desire, within a song.
Of verses of unseen, verses of an eternal dawn.
Words. Blossoming in those verses, in colorful petals of a flower.
In love of divine.
One day. A hundred years before.
One day. After a hundred years more.
May your home be filled with warmth. Within.
A new voice of a poem, A poet, A song, A hymn, bygone.
Do you know the voice of him?
The spring. In the gentlest of your muse.
In you. In yours. An envelope to your ever-flowing brooks
May thy song seasons the soul.
And may thy heart find a love, in murmuring leaves, buzzing of bees
New day, may thy soul be in Gods and green.
Today. After a hundred years more. Longer than an eternal dawn.
#literature
Charano Dhorite Diyogo --- A Tribute to Tagore Geetanjali
#literature
A foothill moment got lit up underneath my colander, himalayan she
I beseech thee, have mercy upon me
Throughout life and mortality, through all strife, in glum and glee
I will shelter thee! My innermost me!
A foothill moment got lit up underneath my colander, himalayan she
I beseech thee, have mercy upon me
The yearning of the fallen vibe, unbridled a natural bliss to slowly thrive
My endless ponderance and clueless journey for my shrine
You will have your pearls glowing, one by one!
Better not to wander in a mayhem, to mourn for bygone, to love that strong!
The yearning of the fallen vibe, a natural bliss to slowly thrive
My endless ponderance and clueless journey for my shrine
A foothill moment got lit up underneath my colander, himalayan she
I beseech thee, have mercy upon me
The unquenchable thirst of a desert that traces back an oasis
Live there for a time, to gather beyond!
Once the decisive destiny will find the defined
The fallen will also live on!
I have found my solace, as the clutch released me, from a confined
With me in thou , in thy nature of divine vow
Adore me in acceptance in thy embellishment
A foothill moment got lit up underneath my colander, himalayan she
I beseech thee, have mercy upon me!
Geetabitan.com (since 2008)
Charano Dhorite
Lyric & History
Lyric and background history of song Charano Dhorite Diyogo
Song of Rabindranath Tagore
Musical composition and background history of the song:
Parjaay: Puja (104)
Upa-parjaay: Prarthana
Taal: Ardha Jhaptaal
Raag: Bhairavi
Written on: 1914 (3 Jaistha 1321)
Place: Ramgarh, The Himalayas
Collection: Geetimalya
Swarabitan: 40
Notation by: Dinendranath Tagore
Notes: This song was composed on 17th May, 1914 at Ramgarh Hills near Nainital.
15th May, 1914 was Debendranath’s 97th birthday. Prabhatkumar Mukhopadhyay, in his ‘Geetabitan Kalanukramik Suchi’ has expressed that this song might have been composed with the memory of this day at the back of His mind. On the sixteenth annual celebration held on 11th Magh at Jorasnako Thakurbari He had sung this song as the morning-prayer.
February, 2025
Life is a continuous journey beset with troubles
So long we live in this universe,
Trouble becomes part and parcel of human experience
Life swings like a pendulum,
One moment swings towards favourable conditions;
That brings name,fame,gain,praises and merriment;
At another moment,unfavourable conditions curse,
Welcoming the loss,ill-fame,blame and pain
Panic no more!
Understand there are ways to clear sufferings,
None is hopelessly condemned to eternal misery,
Unless he himself allows it to be so.
Give away your realization to realise critically,
That all conditioned phenomenon like sufferings and troubles,
Arises not by the way of independent causes,
But it arises out of ones causes.
We can put an end to every form of sufferings,
It is by discovering the root causes of troubles
Do not disheartened by these futile miseries,
Instead act wisely in overcoming them,
No worldly-minded person are from suffering
There are no differences between wise and unwise,
But the manner in which he faces them differs.
Socrates, once faced his hot tempered wife's insults;
Defending her false accusation in a humorous way
Like Tagore prayed not to be shielded from dangers,
But to become fearless in facing it.
The great Buddha taught the world,
That sorrows are caused by our own actions,
And arise from our own ignorance.
Buddha showed how to remove sorrow,
But ourselves must work to gain happiness
Mind is the forerunner of all states
Mind is chief;mind-made are these states
Was what Buddha had preached to his followers.
Like prophet Muhammad accept faith as strength;
Adopting sorrow as a friend;
Using knowledge as a weapon;
And transforming patience as Garb and Virtue
Then the troubles will soon pass;
What had caused you to burst in tears today,
Will be forgotten tomorrow curving smiles on your face.
Do not let the past spoil your present happiness,
Whatever our troubles,however pressing they maybe,
Time will heal our wounds,
But besides leaving things to time,
It is ourselves to protect from hurting.
Maintain the peace in our mind
Don't allow people or troubles to drain energy away,
Since it is ourselves who creates our happiness not others.
Notes of B-Flat during the days of C sharp:
Amma permitted me to listen and sing with a music teacher, the year was 1985-1986. In 1985 we used to live in Mymensingh. After moving to Dhaka, I could practice for a few months more, a harmonium and my musical notes in my own diary.
The teacher I got first was a strange humble guy. Some of the Tagore songs were of a mature kind, but he simply did not mind. My brother could also one of that, “bara asha kore”, was another famous tagore song, like that.
With whom you sang a song, with whom you played your harmonium. A list to be made.
A Saturday tribute to this classic reserve of Bangladesh.
Tonight, the sound of rain, drizzling mourn
Remember your face, once.
Two eyes, brimming with tears
You, with eyelashes clouded in aches
Hide your face , on another side.
With heartache, witnessing duo in melancholy
You, soar with your wings, high above, O holy!
With heartache, witnessing duo in melancholy
You, soar with your wings, high above, O holy!
You are sitting there, alone
You forgot the way back home.
Two eyes, brimming with tears
You, hide your face, on another side
Tell me, how far will you go?
Tell me, how far will you go?
Your path will find me as a pleasant companion.
Tonight, the sound of rain, drizzling mourn
Remember your face, once.
Two eyes, brimming with tears
You, with eyelashes clouded in aches
Hide your face , on another side.
Based on a famous Bangla song of Niaz Mohammed Chowdhury
In the depths of Van Gogh's starry night,
A passion burned, and a soul took flight.
Colours swirled in a cosmic dance,
His paintbrush, his fervent romance.
Michelangelo with marble white,
Carved life from stone, a glorious sight.
David emerged with strength untold,
A testament to a passion that's bold.
Picasso, with his fractured art,
Broke the mould, tore worlds apart.
Cubist dreams and surreal schemes,
Passion flowed in endless streams.
Mother Teresa, a heart so pure,
In slums of suffering, she'd endure.
Her love, a beacon, in the darkest night,
Passion for compassion, burning bright.
Marie Curie, the atoms' quest,
In the lab, she'd never rest.
Radiance and discoveries unfurled,
Her passion ignited the scientific world.
Tagore, with verses that touched the soul,
His words like music, make spirits whole.
"Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high,"
His passion for freedom reached the sky.
Nelson Mandela, in prison's cold,
A passion for justice, fearless and bold.
Forgiveness, unity, his enduring plea,
He set a nation and its people free.
Robert Frost, with words so deep,
In snowy woods, his promises keep.
The road less traveled, his chosen way,
A passion for verses, night and day.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning's love,
Her sonnets soared to skies above.
Passion's fire in every line,
A love for all time, a love divine.
Dalai Lama, with wisdom profound,
In a world of chaos, a tranquil sound.
Compassion and love, his guiding star,
A passion for peace, from near to far.
Michelle Obama, a voice of grace,
Championed hope in every place.
Education, equality, her guiding star,
A passion for change, from near to far.
In these souls, their passions drove,
They sought, they struggled, they dared to prove.
Their legacies, like stars in the night,
Illuminate the world with passionate light.
So, let us, too, in our way,
Let passion guide us, come what may.
For in our hearts, a fire resides,
With passion as our compass, our love abides.
I was born into the weeping skies of July in this part of the world
where the monsoon speaks in a language only the soul understands.
Rain, like liquid glass,
trickles down the banyan and banana leaves,
the air hums with the rhythm of life reborn,
and as a lullaby induces me to sleep.
The sowing takes place in paddy fields
where the showers provide them nourishment.
The month is for raindrops, longing, and renewal.
It carries the scent of earth awakening—
petrichor rising, an invisible hymn
that turns every street into a memory.
The thunder roars in its bold voice
while lightning sketches fleeting maps in the clouds.
History walks here too,
in the folds of the humid evenings,
where poets once sat with damp paper and wandering thoughts,
letting the rains wash away all but the essential truths.
I wonder if they felt what I feel—
a smallness, and yet,
a sense of being part of something vast and endless.
Rabindranath Tagore, the Nobel Laurette, a proud Bengali like me
inked innumerable verses and songs immersed in emotions and romance
of the rainy season.
There is joy in July,
the kind that blooms in puddles
and dances in barefoot steps—
a carefree spirit that the rains bring,
drenching you not in water,
but in stories.
Yet shadows linger,
in the quiet that follows the downpour.
The streets flood, and dreams stagnate.
The skies brood, heavy with secrets.
But even in this, there is beauty—
a promise that storms pass,
that clear skies are born from the chaos.
This is the month of resilience,
when life bends but does not break.
A time for prayers carried by the rain,
for whispered hopes left floating in the swollen Hooghly.
It is a song sung in minor chords,
melancholy, but deeply, deeply alive.
I carry July in my heart—
a woman of its storms and softness.
Its spirit breathes in me:
the courage to love the rain,
the patience to wait for the rainbow,
and the faith that every deluge ends
with the world washed clean.
The Seashore Gathering
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
On the seashores of endless worlds, earth's children converge.
The infinite sky is motionless, the restless waters boisterous.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children gather to dance with joyous cries and pirouettes.
They build sand castles and play with hollow shells.
They weave boats out of withered leaves and laughingly float them out over the vast deep.
Earth's children play gaily on the seashores of endless worlds.
They do not know, yet, how to cast nets or swim.
Divers fish for pearls and merchants sail their ships, while earth's children skip, gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They are unaware of hidden treasures, nor do they know how to cast nets, yet.
The sea surges with laughter, smiling palely on the seashore.
Death-dealing waves sing the children meaningless songs, like a mother lullabying her baby's cradle.
The sea plays with the children, smiling palely on the seashore.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children meet.
Tempests roam pathless skies, ships lie wrecked in uncharted waters, death wanders abroad, and still the children play.
On the seashores of endless worlds there is a great gathering of earth's children.
Originally published by The Chained Muse
NOTE: This translation is based on an untitled text in Bangla (Bengali) first published in 1912 and known as "60" due to its numerical placement. Rabindranath Tagore made history by becoming the first Asian to win the Nobel Prize for Literature the following year. Keywords/Tags: child, children, meet, meeting, converge, convergence, convene, convention, conference, ocean, oceans, sea, seas, seashore, seashores, seaside, beach, beaches, boat, boats, ship, ships, wave, waves, play, playing, storm, storms, tempest, tempests, song, songs, ballad, ballads, dance, dancing