#IndianWriters #NobelPrize
Leave off your works, bride. List… Do you hear, he is gently shaking… Let not your anklets be loud, and… Leave off your works, bride, the g… No, it is not the wind, bride. Do…
When I called you in your garden Mango blooms were rich in fragranc… Why did you remain so distant, Keep your doors so tightly fastene… Blossoms grew to ripe fruit—cluste…
I travelled the old road every day… my cattle to the meadows, I ferrie… all the ways were well known to me… One morning my basket was heavy wi… the fields, the pastures crowded w…
You came to my door in the dawn an… You came in the noon and asked for… You came in the evening with your… You seemed to me like a terror and… Now in the midnight I sit alone i…
Reverend sir, forgive this pair of sinners. Spring winds to-day are blowing in wild eddies, driving dust and dead leaves away, For we have made truce with death for once, and only for...
Day by day I float my paper boats… In bid black letters I write my n… I hope that someone in some strang… I load my little boats with shiuli… I launch my paper boats and look u…
Dying, you have left behind you th… in my life. You have painted my th… colours of your departure, leaving… earth to love’s heaven. Clasped in… united in me in a marriage bond.
Last night in the garden I offere… lifted the cup to your lips, you s… I raised your veil, unbound your t… breast your face sweet with its si… dream overflowed the world of slum…
Beauty is truth’s smile when she beholds her own face in a… Beauty is in the ideal of perfect… which is in the universal being; truth the perfect comprehension of…
Why do you whisper so faintly in m… When the flowers droop in the even… Is this how you must woo and win m… Will there be no proud ceremony fo… Will you not tie up with a wreath…
My heart, the bird of the wilderne… They are the cradle of the morning… My songs are lost in their depths. Let me but soar in that sky, in it… Let me but cleave its clouds and s…
There is a looker—on who sits behi… things in ages and worlds beyond m… forgotten sights glisten on the gr… has seen under new veils the face… hours of many a nameless star. The…
`Prisoner, tell me, who was it tha… `It was my master,' said the priso… `I thought I could outdo everybod… and I amassed in my own treasure—h… When sleep overcame me I lay upon…
O woman, you are not merely the ha… Poets are weaving for you a web wi… The sea gives its pearls, the mine… The desire of men's hearts has she… You are one half woman and one hal…
“Ah, poet, the evening draws near; your hair is turning grey.” “Do you in your lonely musing hear the message of the hereafter?” “It is evening,” the poet said, “and I am listening beca...