#IndianWriters #NobelPrize
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…
Who are you, reader, reading my po… I cannot send you one single flowe… Open your doors and look abroad. From your blossoming garden gather… In the joy of your heart may you f…
I found a few old letters of mine carefully hidden in thy box—a few small toys for thy memory to play with. With a timorous heart thou didst try to steal these trifles from the...
Maya That I should make much of myself… thus casting colored shadows on th… ——such is thy Maya. Thou settest a barrier in thine ow…
`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…
This is my prayer to thee, my lord… strike at the root of penury in my… Give me the strength lightly to be… Give me the strength to make my lo… Give me the strength never to diso…
I wish I could take a quiet corne… own world. I know it has stars that talk to h… down to his face to amuse him with… Those who make believe to be dumb,…
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…
Where is heaven? you ask me, my ch… beyond the limits of birth and dea… and night; it is not of the earth. But your poet knows that its etern… space, and it strives evermore to…
O thou the last fulfilment of life… Death, my death, come and whisper… Day after day I have kept watch f… for thee have I borne the joys and… All that I am, that I have, that…
With a glance of your eyes you cou… But for their praises you have no… You could humble at your feet the… But it is your loved ones, unknown… The perfection of your arms would…
91 THE great earth makes herself hos… with the help of the grass. 92 THE birth and death of the leaves
In one salutation to thee, my God… let all my senses spread out and t… Like a rain—cloud of July hung low with its burden of unshed… let all my mind bend down at thy d…
Life is given to us, we earn it by giving it. Let the dead have the immortality… but the living the immortality of… Life’s errors cry for the merciful…
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...