Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky. ― Rabindranath Tagore, Stray Birds. (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1916) Advertisements
Isn’t it time to collect all those words together words left idle like the leaves of your life? — Muhammad Habiby, from “Traces Remaining,” Beyond The Dunes: An Anthology of Modern Saudi Literature edited by Ezzat Khattab, Salma Khadra Jayyusi and Mansour al-Hazimi ( I. B. Tauris, 2006)
The music of the far-away summer flutters around the Autumn seeking its former nest. ― Rabindranath Tagore, “104,” Stray Birds. (Alpha Editions, October 27, 2017) Originally published 1913.
Unending Love I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times In life after life, in age after age, forever. My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs, That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms, In life after life, in age after age,… Continue reading Rabindranath Tagore
Love’s gift cannot be given, it waits to be accepted. — Rabindranath Tagore
‘Let me light my lamp,’ say the star, ‘and never debate if it will help to remove the darkness.’ Before the end of my journey may I reach within myself the one which is the all, leaving the outer shell to float away with the drifting multitude upon the current of chance and change. —… Continue reading Rabindranath Tagore
Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence? I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds. Open your doors and look abroad. From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the vanished flowers of an hundred years before. In… Continue reading Rabindranath Tagore