Gitanjali Rabindranath Tagore English PDF

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Gitanjali Rabindranath Tagore English PDF Details
Gitanjali Rabindranath Tagore English
PDF Name Gitanjali Rabindranath Tagore English PDF
No. of Pages 62
PDF Size 0.32 MB
Language English
CategoryeBooks & Novels
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Gitanjali Rabindranath Tagore English

Dear readers, today we are going to offer Gitanjali Rabindranath Tagore English PDF for all of you. Gitanjali is one of the most beautiful collections of poems. These wonderful poems were written by the Rabindranath Tagore. These poems were first published in 1910. Rabindranath Tagore is one of the famous and popular Bengali poets.

He was also a writer, playwright, composer, philosopher, social reformer and painter. He was born on 7 May 1861 and died on 7 August 1941. His originally Bengali collection of 156 and 157 poems was published on August 14, 1910. Rabindranath Tagore receives more Nobel Prizes for the Literature and largely for the English translation, of Songs.

Gitanjali Rabindranath Tagore English PDF

Poem – 1

THOU hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou emptiest
again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.
This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through
Its melodies are eternally new.
At the immortal touch of thy hands, my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to
utterance ineffable.
Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine. Ages pass, and
still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.

Poem – 2

WHEN thou commandest me to sing it seems that my heart would break with pride; and
I look to thy face, and tears come to my eyes.
All that is harsh and dissonant in my life melts into one sweet harmony ⎯ and my
adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its flight across the sea.
I know thou takest pleasure in my singing. I know that only as a singer I come before thy
presence.
I touch by the edge of the far-spreading wing of my song thy feet which I could never
aspire to reach.
Drunk with the joy of singing I forget myself and call thee friend who art my lord.

Poem – 3

I KNOW not how thou singest, my master! I ever listen in silent amazement.
The light of thy music illumines the world. The life breath of thy music runs from sky to
sky. The holy stream of thy music breaks through all stony obstacles and rushes on.

My heart longs to join in thy song, but vainly struggles for a voice. I would speak, but
speech breaks not into song, and I cry out baffled. Ah, thou hast made my heart captive
in the endless meshes of thy music, my master!

Poem – 4

LIFE of my life, I shall ever try to keep my body pure, knowing that thy living touch is
upon all my limbs.
I shall ever try to keep all untruths out from my thoughts, knowing that thou art that truth
which has kindled the light of reason in my mind.
I shall ever try to drive all evils away from my heart and keep my love in flower, knowing
that thou hast thy seat in the inmost shrine of my heart.
And it shall be my endeavor to reveal thee in my actions, knowing it is thy power gives
me strength to act.

Poem – 5

I ASK for a moment’s indulgence to sit by thy side. The works that I have in hand I will
finish afterwards.
Away from the sight of thy face my heart knows no rest nor respite, and my work
becomes an endless toil in a shoreless sea of toil.
To-day the summer has come at my window with its sighs and murmurs; and the bees
are plying their minstrelsy at the court of the flowering grove.
Now it is time to sit quiet, face to face with thee, and to sing dedication of life in this silent
and overflowing leisure.

Poem – 6

PLUCK this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it droop and drop into the dust.
It 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.

Poem- 7

The time that my journey takes is long and the way of it long.
I came out on the chariot of the first gleam of light, and pursued my voyage through the wildernesses of worlds leaving my track on many a star and planet.
It is the most distant course that comes nearest to thyself, and that training is the most intricate which leads to the utter simplicity of a tune.
The traveller has to knock at every alien door to come to his own, and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end.
My eyes strayed far and wide before I shut them and said `Here art thou!’
The question and the cry `Oh, where?’ melt into tears of a thousand streams and deluge the world with the flood of the assurance `I am!’

Poem – 8

THE child who is decked with prince’s robes and who has jewelled chains round his neck
loses all pleasure in his play; his dress hampers him at every step.
In fear that it may be frayed, or stained with dust he keeps himself from the world, and is
afraid even to move.
Mother, it is no gain, thy bondage of finery, if it keep one shut off from the healthful dust
of the earth, if it rob one of the right of entrance to the great fair of common human life.

Poem – 9

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.

Poem – 10

HERE is thy footstool and there rest thy feet where live the poorest, and lowliest, and
lost.
When I try to bow to thee, my obeisance cannot reach down to the depth where thy feet
rest among the poorest, and lowliest, and lost.
Pride can never approach to where thou walkest in the clothes of the humble among the
poorest, and lowliest, and lost.
My heart can never find its way to where thou keepest company with the companionless
among the poorest, the lowliest, and the lost.

Poem – 11

MY song has put off her adornments.
She has no pride of dress and decoration. Ornaments would mar our union; they would
come between thee and me; their jingling would drown thy whispers.
My poet’s vanity dies in shame before thy sight. O master poet, I have sat down at thy
feet. Only let me make my life simple and straight, like a flute of reed for thee to fill with
music.

Poem – 12

I am here to sing thee songs. In this hall of thine I have a corner seat.
In thy world I have no work to do; my useless life can only break out in tunes without a purpose.
When the hour strikes for thy silent worship at the dark temple of midnight, command me, my master, to stand before thee to sing.
When in the morning air the golden harp is tuned, honour me, commanding my presence.

Poem – 13

On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind was straying, and I knew it not. My basket was empty and the flower remained unheeded.
Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up from my dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange fragrance in the south wind.
That vague sweetness made my heart ache with longing and it seemed to me that is was the eager breath of the summer seeking for its completion.
I knew not then that it was so near, that it was mine, and that this perfect sweetness had blossomed in the depth of my own heart.

Poem – 14

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?

Poem – 15

There is the lamp but never a flicker of a flame—is such thy fate, my heart? Ah, death were better by far for thee!
Misery knocks at thy door, and her message is that thy lord is wakeful, and he calls thee to the love-tryst through the darkness of night.
The sky is overcast with clouds and the rain is ceaseless. I know not what this is that stirs in me—I know not its meaning.
A moment’s flash of lightning drags down a deeper gloom on my sight, and my heart gropes for the path to where the music of the night calls me.
Light, oh where is the light! Kindle it with the burning fire of desire! It thunders and the wind rushes screaming through the void. The night is black as a black stone. Let not the hours pass by in the dark. Kindle the lamp of love with thy life.

Poem – 16

Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action—
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

Poem – 17

When the heart is hard and parched up, come upon me with a shower of mercy.
When grace is lost from life, come with a burst of song.
When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides shutting me out from beyond, come to me, my lord of silence, with thy peace and rest.
When my beggarly heart sits crouched, shut up in a corner, break open the door, my king, and come with the ceremony of a king.
When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust, O thou holy one, thou wakeful, come with thy light and thy thunder.

Poem – 18

Early in the day it was whispered that we should sail in a boat, only thou and I, and never a soul in the world would know of this our pilgrimage to no country and to no end.
In that shoreless ocean, at thy silently listening smile my songs would swell in melodies, free as waves, free from all bondage of words.
Is the time not come yet? Are there works still to do? Lo, the evening has come down upon the shore and in the fading light the seabirds come flying to their nests.
Who knows when the chains will be off, and the boat, like the last glimmer of sunset, vanish into the night?

Poem – 19

Have you not heard his silent steps? He comes, comes, ever comes.
Every moment and every age, every day and every night he comes, comes, ever comes.
Many a song have I sung in many a mood of mind, but all their notes have always proclaimed, `He comes, comes, ever comes.’
In the fragrant days of sunny April through the forest path he comes, comes, ever comes.
In the rainy gloom of July nights on the thundering chariot of clouds he comes, comes, ever comes.
In sorrow after sorrow it is his steps that press upon my heart, and it is the golden touch of his feet that makes my joy to shine.

Poem – 20

Light, my light, the world-filling light, the eye-kissing light, heart-sweetening light!
Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the centre of my life; the light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love; the sky opens, the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth.
The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light. Lilies and jasmines surge up on the crest of the waves of light.
The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling, and it scatters gems in profusion.
Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling, and gladness without measure. The heaven’s river has drowned its banks and the flood of joy is abroad.

About the Gitanjali PDF in English

Author

Rabindranath Tagore

Original title গীতাঞ্জলি
Country India
Language Bengali
Subject Devotion to God
Genre Poem
Publication date
1910
Published in English
1912
Pages 104

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