New Year Poems:The New Year by Tagore/New Year’s Eve by A. E. Housman

Music:
NNALE EN JEEVAN Cover -Rajesh Cherthala

The New Year
Tagore

LIKE FRUIT, shaken free by an impatient wind
from the veils of its mother flower,
thou comest, New Year, whirling in a frantic dance
amid the stampede of the wind-lashed clouds
and infuriate showers,
while trampled by thy turbulence
are scattered away the faded and the frail
in an eddying agony of death.

Thou art no dreamer afloat on a languorous breeze,
lingering among the hesitant whisper and hum
of an uncertain season.

Thine is a majestic march, o terrible Stranger,
thundering forth an ominous incantation,
driving the days on to the perils of a pathless dark,
where thou carriest a dumb signal in thy banner,
a decree of destiny undeciphered.

New Year’s Eve
A. E. Housman

The end of the year fell chilly
Between a moon and a moon;
Thorough the twilight shrilly
The bells rang, ringing no tune.

The windows stained with story,
The walls with miracle scored,
Were hidden for gloom and glory
Filling the house of the Lord.

Arch and aisle and rafter
And roof-tree dizzily high
Were full of weeping and laughter
And song and saying good-bye.

There stood in the holy places
A multitude none could name,
Ranks of dreadful faces
Flaming, transfigured in flame.

Crown and tiar and mitre
Were starry with gold and gem;
Christmas never was whiter
Than fear on the face of them.

In aisles that emperors vaulted
For a faith the world confessed,
Abasing the Host exalted,
They worshipped towards the west.

They brought with laughter oblation;
They prayed, not bowing the head;
They made without tear lamentation,
And rendered me answer and said:

‘O thou that seest our sorrow,
It fares with us even thus:
To-day we are gods, to-morrow
Hell have mercy on us.

‘Lo, morning over our border
From out of the west comes cold;
Down ruins the ancient order
And empire builded of old.

‘Our house at even is queenly
With psalm and censers alight:
Look thou never so keenly
Thou shalt not find us to-night.

‘We are come to the end appointed
With sands not many to run:
Divinities disanointed
And kings whose kingdom is done.

‘The peoples knelt down at our portal,
All kindreds under the sky;
We were gods and implored and immortal
Once; and to-day we die.’

They turned them again to their praying,
They worshipped and took no rest
Singing old tunes and saying
‘We have seen his star in the west,’

Old tunes of the sacred psalters,
Set to wild farewells;
And I left them there at their altars
Ringing their own dead knells.

Selected Spiritual Poems from "Song Offerings"(Gitanjali) by Rabindranath Tagore

Music:
Hamain Tumse Pyar Kitna - INSTRUMENTAL

Little Flute

Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail
vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.
This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales,
and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.
At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in
joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.
Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine.
Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.

Passing Breeze

Yes, I know, this is nothing but thy love,
O beloved of my heart---this golden light that dances upon the leaves,
these idle clouds sailing across the sky,
this passing breeze leaving its coolness upon my forehead.
The morning light has flooded my eyes---this is thy message to my heart.
Thy face is bent from above, thy eyes look down on my eyes,
and my heart has touched thy feet.

Leave This

Leave this chanting and singing and telling of beads!
Whom dost thou worship in this lonely dark corner
of a temple with doors all shut?
Open thine eyes and see thy God is not before thee!
He is there where the tiller is tilling the hard ground
and where the pathmaker is breaking stones.
He is with them in sun and in shower,
and his garment is covered with dust.
Put off thy holy mantle and even like him come down on the dusty soil!

Beggarly Heart

When the heart is hard and parched up,
come upon me with a shower of mercy.
When grace is lost from life,
come with a burst of song.
When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides shutting me out from
beyond, come to me, my lord of silence, with thy peace and rest.
When my beggarly heart sits crouched, shut up in a corner,
break open the door, my king, and come with the ceremony of a king.
When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust, O thou holy one,
thou wakeful, come with thy light and thy thunder.

Last Curtain

I know that the day will come
when my sight of this earth shall be lost,
and life will take its leave in silence,
drawing the last curtain over my eyes.
Yet stars will watch at night,
and morning rise as before,
and hours heave like sea waves casting up pleasures and pains.
When I think of this end of my moments,
the barrier of the moments breaks
and I see by the light of death
thy world with its careless treasures.
Rare is its lowliest seat,
rare is its meanest of lives.
Things that I longed for in vain
and things that I got
---let them pass.
Let me but truly possess
the things that I ever spurned
and overlooked.

Old and New

Thou hast made me known to friends whom I knew not.
Thou hast given me seats in homes not my own.
Thou hast brought the distant near and made a brother of the stranger.
I am uneasy at heart when I have to leave my accustomed shelter;
I forget that there abides the old in the new,
and that there also thou abidest.
Through birth and death, in this world or in others,
wherever thou leadest me it is thou, the same,
the one companion of my endless life
who ever linkest my heart with bonds of joy to the unfamiliar.
When one knows thee, then alien there is none, then no door is shut.
Oh, grant me my prayer that I may never lose
the bliss of the touch of the one
in the play of many.

When thou commandest me to sing

When thou commandest me to sing
it seems that my heart would break with pride;
and I look to thy face, and tears come to my eyes.

All that is harsh and dissonant in my life
melts into one sweet harmony -
and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird
on its flight across the sea.

I know thou takest pleasure in my singing.
I know that only as a singer
I come before thy presence.

I touch by the edge of the far-spreading wing
of my song thy feet
which I could never aspire to reach.

Drunk with the joy of singing I forget myself
and call thee friend who art my lord.

She

She who ever had remained in the depth of my being,
in the twilight of gleams and of glimpses;
she who never opened her veils in the morning light,
will be my last gift to thee, my God, folded in my final song.
Words have wooed yet failed to win her;
persuasion has stretched to her its eager arms in vain.
I have roamed from country to country keeping her in the core of my heart,
and around her have risen and fallen the growth and decay of my life.
Over my thoughts and actions, my slumbers and dreams,
she reigned yet dwelled alone and apart.
Many a man knocked at my door and asked for her
and turned away in despair.
There was none in the world who ever saw her face to face,
and she remained in her loneliness waiting for thy recognition.

Human being when you know him as spirit by Rabindranath Tagore

Of course man is useful to man, because his body is a marvellous machine and his mind an organ of wonderful efficiency. But he is a spirit as well, and this spirit is truly known only by love. When we define a man by the market value of the service we can expect of him, we know him imperfectly. With this limited knowledge of him it becomes easy for us to be unjust to him and to entertain feelings of triumphant self-congratulation when, on account of some cruel advantage on our side, we can get out of him much more than we have paid for. But when we know him as a spirit we know him as our own. We at once feel that cruelty to him is cruelty to ourselves, to make him small is stealing from our own humanity...
Rabindranath Tagore

Inspirational poetry of love & the affections of the heart by Rabindranath Tagore:Your Questioning Eyes*For the Union of You and Me*In the dusky path of a dream*Trust Love(Love poems for Valentine's day)

Music:
Richard Clayderman - Nights In White Satin

Luis Valadares Photography

The Gardener XXVIII: Your Questioning Eyes
Rabindranath Tagore

Your questioning eyes are sad. They
seek to know my meaning as the moon
would fathom the sea.
I have bared my life before your
eyes from end to end, with nothing
hidden or held back. That is why you
know me not.
If it were only a gem, I could break
it into a hundred pieces and string
them into a chain to put on your neck.

If it were only a flower, round and
small and sweet, I could pluck it from
its stem to set it in your hair.
But it is a heart, my beloved.
Where are its shores and its bottom?
You know not the limits of this
kingdom, still you are its queen.
If it were only a moment of pleasure
it would flower in an easy smile, and
you could see it and read it in a moment.

If it were merely a pain it would
melt in limpid tears, reflecting its
inmost secret without a word.
But it is love, my beloved.
Its pleasure and pain are boundless,
and endless its wants and wealth.
It is as near to you as your life, but
you can never wholly know it.

Gabriela Slegrova Photography

For the Union of You and Me
Rabindranath Tagore

It is for the union of you and me
that there is light in the sky.

It is for the union of you and me
that the earth is decked in dusky green.

It is for the union of you and me
that the night sits motionless
with the world in her arms;

Dawn appears opening the eastern door
with sweet murmurs in her voice.

The boat of hope sails along the currents
of eternity toward that union;

Flowers of the ages are being gathered together
for its welcoming ritual.

It is for the union of you and me
that this heart of mine, in the garb of a bride,

Has proceeded from birth to birth upon the surface
of this ever-turning world to chose the beloved.

In the dusky path of a dream
Rabindranath Tagore

IN the dusky path of a dream
I went to seek the love who was mine in a former life.

Her house stood at the end of a desolate street.
In the evening breeze her pet peacock sat drowsing on its perch, and the pigeons were silent in their corner.

She set her lamp down by the portal
and stood before me.

She raised her large eyes to my face and mutely asked,
"Are you well, my friend?”

I tried to answer,
but our language had been lost and forgotten.

I thought and thought;
our names would not come to my mind.

Tears shone in her eyes.
She held up her right hand to me.
I took it and stood silent.

Our lamp had flickered in the evening breeze
and died.

The Gardener XXVII: Trust Love
Rabindranath Tagore

"Trust love even if it brings sorrow.Do not close up your heart."
"Ah no, my friend,your words are dark,I cannot understand them."

"The heart is only for giving away with a tear and a song,my love."
"Ah no,my friend,your words are dark,I cannot understand them."

"Pleasure is frail like a dewdrop,while it laughs it dies.
But sorrow is strong and abiding.Let sorrowful love
wake in your eyes."
"Ah no,my friend,your words are dark,I cannot understand them."

"The lotus blooms in the sight of the sun,and loses all that it has.
It would not remain in bud in the eternal winter mist."
"Ah no, my friend,your words are darkI cannot understand them.

Hohe Lieder(Gitanjali) Von Rabindranath Tagore

Ein Auszug aus dem Werk Gitanjali.
(Hohe Lieder)
Rabindranath Tagore
Deutsche Nachdichtung von Marie Luise Gothein

Laß dies Stimmen und Singen
und Sagen des Rosenkranzes!
Wen betest du an
in diesem einsamen,
dunklen Winkel des Tempels,
in dem verschlossenen Tor?

Öffne die Augen und sieh,
dein Gott ist nicht vor dir.

Er ist dort, wo der Pflüger
den harten Grund pflügt,
wo der Steinklopfer Steine bricht.
Er ist mit ihnen
in Sonne und Regen
und wo sein Kleid bedeckt ist mit Staub.
Leg ab deinen heiligen Mantel
und komme herab mit ihm
auf den staubigen Boden.

Befreiung? Wo ist die Befreiung zu finden?
Unser Meister hat freudig
die Bande der Schöpfung auf sich genommen;
er ist mit uns für immer gebunden.

Komm heraus aus deiner Betrachtung,
laß Blumen und Weihrauch beiseite!
Was schadet es, wenn deine Kleider zerreißen
und fleckig werden.
Geh ihm entgegen,
stehe bei ihm in der Arbeit,
dem Schweiß deiner Stirne.

Your Questioning Eyes by Rabindranath Tagore

The Gardener XXVIII: Your Questioning Eyes
Rabindranath Tagore

Your questioning eyes are sad. They
seek to know my meaning as the moon
would fathom the sea.
I have bared my life before your
eyes from end to end, with nothing
hidden or held back. That is why you
know me not.

If it were only a gem, I could break
it into a hundred pieces and string
them into a chain to put on your neck.
If it were only a flower, round and
small and sweet, I could pluck it from
its stem to set it in your hair.

But it is a heart, my beloved.
Where are its shores and its bottom?
You know not the limits of this
kingdom, still you are its queen.
If it were only a moment of pleasure
it would flower in an easy smile, and
you could see it and read it in a
moment.

If it were merely a pain it would
melt in limpid tears, reflecting its
inmost secret without a word.
But it is love, my beloved.
Its pleasure and pain are boundless,
and endless its wants and wealth.
It is as near to you as your life, but
you can never wholly know it.

Fireflies by Rabindranath Tagore

Richard Johnson Art

Excerpt From"Fireflies"
Rabindranath Tagore

"Fireflies" is a collection of proverbs, aphorisms, and maxims from India, China, and Japan. Collected by Rabindranath Tagore over many years.

My fancies are fireflies,—
Specks of living light
twinkling in the dark.

The voice of wayside pansies,
that do not attract the careless glance,
murmurs in these desultory lines.

In the drowsy dark caves of the mind
dreams build their nest with fragments
dropped from day's caravan.

Spring scatters the petals of flowers
that are not for the fruits of the future,
but for the moment's whim.

Joy freed from the bond of earth's slumber
rushes into numberless leaves,
and dances in the air for a day.

My words that are slight
my lightly dance upon time's waves
when my works havy with import have gone down.

Mind's underground moths
grow filmy wings
and take a farewell flight
in the sunset sky.

Inspirational contemplative poems on Spirituality,Tolerance and Humanity:Only Breath by rumi/Wonder by Ibn Arabi/In my soul by rabia/Go not to the temple by Tagore /To live of Love bySaint Teresa of Lisieux/Men Whom Men Condemn as Ill by Joaquin Miller

Music:
Omar Faruk Tekbilek - Hasret(yearning)

Only Breath
Rumi

Not Christian or Jew or Muslim, not Hindu
Buddhist, sufi, or zen. Not any religion

or cultural system. I am not from the East
or the West, not out of the ocean or up

from the ground, not natural or ethereal, not
composed of elements at all. I do not exist,

am not an entity in this world or in the next,
did not descend from Adam and Eve or any

origin story. My place is placeless, a trace
of the traceless. Neither body or soul.

I belong to the beloved, have seen the two
worlds as one and that one call to and know,

first, last, outer, inner, only that
breath breathing human being.

John Atkinson Grimshaw art

In my soul
rabi'a al adawiyya

In my Soul there is a temple, a shrine, a mosque, a church where I kneel. Prayer should bring us to an altar where no walls or names exist.
Is there not a region of Love, where the Sovereignty is illuminated nothing, Where ecstasy gets poured into itself and becomes lost,
Where the wing is fully alive but has no mind or body?
In my Soul there is a temple, a shrine, a mosque, a church that dissolves,
That dissolves in God.

Wonder
Ibn 'Arabi

O Marvel! a garden amidst the flames.
My heart has become capable of every form:
it is a pasture for gazelles
and a convent for Christian monks,
and a temple for idols and the pilgrim's Kaa'ba,
and the tables of the Torah and the book of the Quran.
I follow the religion of Love:
whatever way Love's camels take,
that is my religion and my faith.

Men Whom Men Condemn as Ill
Joaquin Miller

In men whom men condemn as ill
I find so much of goodness still,
In men whom men pronounce divine
I find so much of sin and blot,
I do not dare to draw a line
Between the two, where God has not.

Who now shall accuse and arraign us?
What man shall condemn and disown?
Since Christ has said only the stainless
Shall cast at his fellows a stone.

To live of love
Saint Teresa of Lisieux

To live of love it is to sail afar
And bring both peace and joy where'er I be.
0 Pilot blest! love is my guiding star;
In every soul I meet, Thyself I see.
Safe sail I on, through wind or rain or ice;
Love urges me, love conquers every gale.
High on my mast behold is my device:
"By love I sail!"

Go not to the temple
by Rabindranath Tagore

Go not to the temple to put flowers upon the feet of God,
First fill your own house with the Fragrance of love...

Go not to the temple to light candles before the altar of God,
First remove the darkness of sin from your heart...

Go not to the temple to bow down your head in prayer,
First learn to bow in humility before your fellowmen...

Go not to the temple to pray on bended knees,
First bend down to lift someone who is down-trodden...

Go not to the temple to ask for forgiveness for your sins,
First forgive from your heart those who have sinned against you.

Herbert Arnould Olivier art

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
1 Corinthians 13:1-8

The First Jasmines by Rabindranath Tagore

The First Jasmines
Rabindranath Tagore

Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines!
I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with
these jasmines, these white jasmines.
I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth;
I have heard the liquid murmur of the river thorough the
darkness of midnight;

Autumn sunsets have come to me at the bend of a road in the
lonely waste, like a bride raising her veil to accept her lover.
Yet my memory is still sweet with the first white jasmines
that I held in my hands when I was a child.
Many a glad day has come in my life, and I have laughed with
merrymakers on festival nights.

On grey mornings of rain I have crooned many an idle song.
I have worn round my neck the evening wreath of bakulas
woven by the hand of love.
Yet my heart is sweet with the memory of the first fresh
jasmines that filled my hands when I was a child.

Rabindranath Tagore Poems on Romantic Love :41 -The Gardener;40 - The Gardener;Unending Love;I Found A Few Old Letters

Music:
Kevin Kern-Always Near

Richard Johnson Art
41 - The Gardener
Rabindranath Tagore

I long to speak the deepest words I have to say to you;
but I dare not, for fear you should laugh.
That is why I laugh at myself and shatter my secret in jest.
I make light of my pain, afraid you should do so.

I long to tell you the truest words I have to say to you;
but I dare not, being afraid that you would not believe them.
That is why I disguise them in untruth, saying the contrary of
what I mean.
I make my pain appear absurd, afraid that you should do so.

I long to use the most precious words I have for you;
but I dare not, fearing I should not be paid with like value.
That is why I gave you hard names and boast
of my callous strength.
I hurt you, for fear you should never know any pain.

I long to sit silent by you; but I dare not lest my heart come
out at my lips.
That is why I prattle and chatter lightly and hide my heart
behind words.
I rudely handle my pain, for fear you should do so.

I long to go away from your side; but I dare not, for fear my
cowardice should become known to you.
That is why I hold my head high and carelessly
come into your presence.
Constant thrusts from your eyes keep my pain fresh for ever.

Wilhelm Amberg Art

40 - The Gardener
Rabindranath Tagore

An unbelieving smile flits on your eyes when I come to you to
take my leave.
I have done it so often that you think I will soon return.
To tell you the truth I have the same doubt in my mind.

For the spring days come again time after time; the full moon
takes leave and comes on another visit, the flowers come again
and blush upon their branches year after year, and it is likely
that I take my leave only to come to you again.
But keep the illusion awhile; do not send it away
with ungentle haste.

When I say I leave you for all time, accept it as true, and let
a mist of tears for one moment deepen
the dark rim of your eyes.
Then smile as archly as you like when I come again.

Richard Johnson Art

Unending Love
Rabindranath Tagore

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, forever.

Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, it's age-old pain,
It's ancient tale of being apart or together.
As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,
Clad in the light of a pole-star piercing the darkness of time:
You become an image of what is remembered forever.

You and I have floated here on the stream that
brings from the fount.
At the heart of time, love of one for another.
We have played along side millions of lovers, shared in
the same shy sweetness of meeting, the same distressful
tears of farewell-Old love but in shapes that renew and
renew forever.

Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you
The love of all man’s days both past and forever:
Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life.
The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours –
And the songs of every poet past and forever.

Johanna Harmon Art

I Found A Few Old Letters
Rabindranath Tagore

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 turbulent
stream of time which washes away planets and stars,and didst
say, “These are only mine!” Alas, there is no one now who can
claim them—who is able to pay their price; yet they are still
here. Is there no love in this world to rescue thee from utter
loss, even like this love of thine that saved these letters
with such fond care?

O woman, thou camest for a moment to my side and touched me
with the great mystery of the woman that there is in the heart
of creation—she who ever gives back to God his own outflow of
sweetness; who is the eternal love and beauty and youth; who
dances in bubbling streams and sings in the morning light;
who with heaving waves suckles the thirsty earth and whose
mercy melts in rain; in whom the eternal one breaks in two
in joy that can contain itself no more and overflows in
the pain of love.