#IndianWriters #NobelPrize
Tell me if this be all true, my lo… When these eyes flash their lightn… Is it true that my lips are sweet… Do the memories of vanished months… Does the earth, like a harp, shive…
Ah, these jasmines, these white ja… I seem to remember the first day w… these jasmines, these white jasmin… I have loved the sunlight, the sky… I have heard the liquid murmur of…
Why do you put me to shame with a… I have not come as a beggar. Only for a passing hour I stood a… Why do you put me to shame with a… Not a rose did I gather from your…
I am like a remnant of a cloud of… uselessly roaming in the sky, O my… Thy touch has not yet melted my va… making me one with thy light, and thus I count months and years…
Thou who art the innermost Spirit… art thou pleased, Lord of my Life… For I give to thee my cup filled… the pain and delight that the crus… grapes of my heart had surrendered…
The night was dark when she went a… The night is dark now, and I call… darling; the world is asleep; and… for a moment while stars are gazin… She went away when the trees were…
The butterfly counts not months bu… and has time enough. Time is a wealth of change, but the clock in its parody makes… Let your life lightly dance on the…
She is near to my heart as the mea… sweet to me as sleep is to tired l… flowing in its fullness, like a ri… serene abandonment. My songs are o… of a stream, that sings with all i…
Tired of waiting, you burst your b… the winter had gone. Glimpses of t… wayside watch, and you rushed out… jasmines, troops of riotous roses. You were the first to march to the…
Let your work be, bride. Listen,… Do you hear, he is gently shaking… See that your anklets make no loud… Let your work be, bride, the guest… No, it is not the ghostly wind, br…
“Where have I come from, where di… its mother. She answered, half crying, half la… baby to her breast— “You were hidden in my heart as it…
We both live in the same village a… The yellow bird sings in their tre… Her pair of pet lambs come to graz… If they stray into our barley fiel… The name of our village is Khanju…
I asked nothing, only stood at the… Languor was still upon the eyes of… The lazy smell of the damp grass h… Under the banyan tree you were mil… And I was standing still.
Come to my garden walk, my love.… press themselves on your sight. Pa… chance joy, which like a sudden wo… elude. For lover’s gift is shy, it never…
With days of hard travail I raise… I forgot all else, I shunned all… It was always night inside, and li… The ceaseless smoke of incense wou… Sleepless, I carved on the walls…