The Kiss – Rabindranath Tagore

Lips’ language to lips’ ears.
Two drinking each other’s heart, it seems.
Two roving loves who have left home,
pilgrims to the confluence of lips.
Two waves rise by the law of love
to break and die on two sets of lips.
Two wild desires craving each other
meet at last at the body’s limits.
Love’s writing a song in dainty letters,
layers of kiss-calligraphy on lips.
Plucking flowers from two sets of lips
perhaps to thread them into a chain later.
This sweet union of lips
is the red marriage-bed of a pair of smiles. 

Sleep – Rabindranath Tagore

In the night of weariness 
let me give myself up to sleep without struggle, 
resting my trust upon thee. 

Let me not force my flagging spirit into a poor preparation for thy worship. 

It is thou who drawest the veil of night upon the tired eyes of the day 
to renew its sight in a fresher gladness of awakening. 

Senses – Rabindranath Tagore

Deliverance is not for me in renunciation. 

I feel the embrace of freedom in a thousand bonds of delight. 
Thou ever pourest for me the fresh draught of thy wine of various 

colours and fragrance, filling this earthen vessel to the brim. 
My world will light its hundred different lamps with thy flame 

and place them before the altar of thy temple. 
No, I will never shut the doors of my senses. 

The delights of sight and hearing and touch will bear thy delight. 
Yes, all my illusions will burn into illumination of joy, 

and all my desires ripen into fruits of love. 

Still Heart – Rabindranath Tagore

When I give up the helm 

I know that the time has come for thee to take it. 

What there is to do will be instantly done. 

Vain is this struggle. 
Then take away your hands 

and silently put up with your defeat, my heart, 

and think it your good fortune to sit perfectly still 

where you are placed. 
These my lamps are blown out at every little puff of wind, 

and trying to light them I forget all else again and again.
But I shall be wise this time and wait in the dark, 

spreading my mat on the floor; 

and whenever it is thy pleasure, my lord, 

come silently and take thy seat here.

Paper Boats – Rabindranath Tagore

Day by day I float my paper boats one by one down the running 

stream. 

In bid black letters I write my name on them and the name of 

the village where I live. 

I hope that someone in some strange land will find them and 

know who I am. 

I load my little boats with shiuli flower from our garden, and 

hope that these blooms of the dawn will be carried safely to land 

in the night. 

I launch my paper boats and look up into the sky and see the 

little clouds setting thee white bulging sails. 

I know not what playmate of mine in the sky sends them down 

the air to race with my boats! 

When night comes I bury my face in my arms and dream that my 

paper boats float on and on under the midnight stars. 

The fairies of sleep are sailing in them, and the lading ins 

their baskets full of dreams.

Poems On Man – Rabindranath Tagore

Man goes into the noisy crowd 

to drown his own clamour of silence. 
Man is immortal; therefore he must die endlessly. 

For life is a creative idea; 

it can only find itself in changing forms. 
Man’s abiding happiness is not in getting anything 

but in giving himself up to what is greater than himself, 

to ideas which are larger than his individual life, 

the idea of his country, 

of humanity, 

of God.

Poems On Life – Rabindranath Tagore

Life is given to us, 

we earn it by giving it. 
Let the dead have the immortality of fame, 

but the living the immortality of love. 
Life’s errors cry for the merciful beauty 

that can modulate their isolation into a 

harmony with the whole. 
Life, like a child, laughs, 

shaking its rattle of death as it runs.