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Place me on trial আমার বিচার তুমি করো amar bichar tumi koro Place me on trial and judge me yourself I bring my day’s work to your hall of judgement If my worship is but a falsehood If I clutch on to false rites If in malice I wrong someone Place me on trial and judge me yourself If I hurt someone lured by greed If in fear I stray from righteousness If I find joy in another's woe, even for a moment If I defile the life you blessed me with If possessed by temptation I destroy my own self Place me on trial and judge me yourself Translated by Rumela Sengupta

My voice soothes my soul আমার বাণী আমার প্রাণে লাগে amar baani amar praane laage My voice soothes my soul The more I call out to you My own heart awakens This longing for you is my own attainment And so my heart seeks with all its might O frail one! your fear holds you back If you set out to serve This frailty would itself fall apart What need have I to seek directions? Your lamp guides me on with each step I take Translated by Rumela Sen

Rudyard Kipling The Explanation Love and Death once ceased their strife At the Tavern of Man's Life. Called for wine, and threw -- alas! -- Each his quiver on the grass. When the bout was o'er they found Mingled arrows strewed the ground. Hastily they gathered then Each the loves and lives of men. Ah, the fateful dawn deceived! Mingled arrows each one sheaved; Death's dread armoury was stored With the shafts he most abhorred; Love's light quiver groaned beneath Venom-headed darts of Death. Thus it was they wrought our woe At the Tavern long ago. Tell me, do our masters know, Loosing blindly as they fly, Old men love while young men die?

Who wafted by my heart আমার প্রাণের পরে চলে গেল কে amar praner pore chole gelo ke (audio) Who wafted by my heart Like soothing breeze of spring He touched me, brought me to my knees Made flowers bloom in tens of thousands Went by, without a word to me Where did he go never to return On his way he did gaze What was the song he sang So it is by myself I sit in the garden Like a wave he rippled To go where the moon beams With each thing he smiled at He left back his laughter From a corner of his eye I think he beckoned me Where should I go, where should I go I think thus sitting by myself He waved his wand of moonlit dreams Dangled a string of flowers deep within What was it he whispered to wild flowers Their heady fragrance went away with him Fervent is my heart, heavy are my eyes Through which place to where did he go Translated by Rumela Sengupta Email This BlogThis! Share to Twitter Share to Facebook Share to Pinterest Category Love - Prem

The human in my heart আমার প্রাণের মানুষ আছে প্রাণে Amar praaner manush achhe praane (audio) The human in my heart lives here, so I find her everywhere. In my eyes, in dancing light, so I never lose her sight. She is here, there and everywhere. I went far and near to hear her talk. But the words I never could hear. Now I return to my loving home, in my songs, her words are clear. Those who seek from door to door can not find her anywhere. Come in haste, come and look! In my eyes, in my soul, she is there.

Eulalie I dwelt alone In a world of moan, And my soul was a stagnant tide, Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride- Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride. Ah, less- less bright The stars of the night Than the eyes of the radiant girl! That the vapor can make With the moon-tints of purple and pearl, Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curl- Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most humble and careless curl. Now Doubt- now Pain Come never again, For her soul gives me sigh for sigh, And all day long Shines, bright and strong, Astarte within the sky, While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye- While ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.

Amidst dense darkness of words unspoken আমার না-বলা বাণীর ঘন যামিনীর মাঝে amar na bola baanir ghono jaminir majhe (audio) Amidst the dense darkness Of words unspoken My thoughts of you shine like stars. Around the shadowy forests In the seclusion of my heart Floats the fragrance of flowers unseen My feelings hide in unwept tears A flute unheard, plays deep within. Now and then unknowing I make a gift of my song My life I adorn with flowers In course of play Knowing not when you might choose one In the dimness of light You open the door in silence And breathe new life into my work

My heart's companion আমার দোসর যে জন ওগো তারে কে জানে Amar doshor je jon ogo tare ke jane (audio: Arundhati Holm Chowdhury) Is it possible to know My heart's companion, To deduce if his music responds To my song, To imagine the impassioned source Of my flowing streams? Monsoon buds erupt on earth And create fragrant carpets; I sense a stranger fleeting In and out of sight Below inky shadows of the arbor. Could anyone guess Who arrives unprecedented, To present me With secret bouquets! Translated by Ananda

I see Your infinite form in every direction, with countless arms, stomachs, faces, and eyes. O Lord of the universe, whose form is the universe itself, I do not see in You any beginning, middle, or end.

When centered my play around you আমার খেলা যখন ছিল তোমার সনে aamaar khela jokhon chhilo tomar shone (Listen to the song ) (Tagore's own translation) When centered my play around you Who knew then who you were Fear there was none nor diffidence Life surged forth in all restlessness Oft at dawn you called out to me As if like my own friend I laughed with you in sheer delight Racing through forests and beyond The songs that you sang then Who knew then their meaning My life it was that sang along And danced my heart always astir At sudden end of play What do I see today Stunned into silence are the skies Hushed are the sun and moon Gazing at your feet with eyes downcast The cosmos comes to a standstill

I left my lamp unlit in the dark আমার জ্বলেনি আলো অন্ধকারে Amar joleni alo ondhokare (audio: Debabrata Biswas) I left my beacon unlit in the dark Is that why, repeatedly You refuse to answer my passionate call? Your flute trills in my heart In my sizzling hurt, my supreme bliss. Yet for the one who is lost The tears, you let them fall so willfully. I look at the sky and a dream blossoms, Still, I wonder what I desire. Hope fires and flickers now and then, Meaninglessly, as if my aching heart Would tug you, would make you come to me.

My cup of joy brims over আমার জীবনপাত্র উচ্ছলিয়া মাধুরী করেছ দান amar jibono patro uchholiya (audio) My cup of joy brims over With the sweetness you bestow You know not what it is worth Like the tuberose unseen by eyes Scents the night with sweet dreams You fill my life with your song Time has come to say farewell Do lift your radiant face Offer at your feet I will A life fulfilled in sweet death One whom you never did know Silent night of his secret pain May it now come to an end. Translated by Rumela Sengupta

Withered leaves of mine আমার জীর্ণ পাতা যাবার বেলা amar jeerno pata Withered leaves of mine Call upon the new As they depart. This is how spring is reborn In my forests And how fresh melodies Spread wings across the sky And how My branches fill with young blossoms In a panoply of colour. My forever-new My friend in life, Stand before me With your radiant face. As you summon me to carry on, So shall I tread my path youthfully. The last rays of the sun slip past And my path suddenly halts Before an ocean's silent gaze. Then again Your flute resounds in the darkness And the once empty space Is now vibrant With a galaxy of stars. Translated by Ananda Email This BlogThis! Share to Twitter Share to Facebook Share to Pinterest Category Melange - Bichitra

In this somber rainy evening আমার দিন ফুরালো ব্যাকুল বাদল সাঁঝে amar din phuralo In this somber rainy evening I think my call has rung, And the heaping clouds melt in Heavy showers. The sweet purl of the flowing river In the deep shadows of the forests Tune my heart with the saddest notes And it pours forth the resonant music At the profound beats Of the thunder drum. My remotest friend has come today He stands silently In the obscure dark. While his heart is heavy With the pang of separation, It brims with the hope of our Secret meet. I think I know his silent footstep sound And am charmed of his unseen grace. Translated by Subrata Majumdar Email This BlogThis! Share to Twitter Share to Facebook Share to Pinterest Category Nature - Prokriti, Rains - Borsha

Friend, in my mountain-side demesne My plain-beholding, rosy, green And linnet-haunted garden-ground, Let still the esculents abound. Let first the onion flourish there, Rose among roots, the maiden-fair, Wine-scented and poetic soul Of the capacious salad bowl. Let thyme the mountaineer (to dress The tinier birds) and wading cress, The lover of the shallow brook, From all my plots and borders look Nor crisp and ruddy radish, nor Pease-codes for the child's pinafore Be lacking; nor of salad clan The last and least that ever ran About great nature's garden-beds. Nor thence be missed the speary heads Of artichoke; nor thence the bean That gathered innocent and green Outsavours the belauded pea. These tend, I prithee; and for me, Thy most long-suffering master, bring In April, when the linnets sing And the days lengthen more and more, At sundown to the garden door. And I, being provided thus. Shall, with superb asparagus, A book, a taper, and a cup Of country wine, divinely sup. La Solitude, Hyeres.

Robert Louis Stevenson To Minnie From Underwoods (With a hand-glass) A picture-frame for you to fill, A paltry setting for your face, A thing that has no worth until You lend it something of your grace I send (unhappy I that sing Laid by awhile upon the shelf) Because I would not send a thing Less charming than you are yourself. And happier than I, alas! (Dumb thing, I envy its delight) 'Twill wish you well, the looking-glass, And look you in the face to-night.

Robert Louis Stevenson To K. de M. From Underwoods A lover of the moorland bare, And honest country winds, you were; The silver-skimming rain you took; And loved the floodings of the brook, Dew, frost and mountains, fire and seas, Tumultuary silences, Winds that in darkness fifed a tune, And the high-riding virgin moon. And as the berry, pale and sharp, Springs on some ditch's counterscarp In our ungenial, native north -- You put your frosted wildings forth, And on the heath, afar from man, A strong and bitter virgin ran. The berry ripened keeps the rude And racy flavour of the wood. And you that loved the empty plain All redolent of wind and rain, Around you still the curlew sings -- The freshness of the weather clings -- The maiden jewels of the rain Sit in your dabbled locks again.

Robert Louis Stevenson To Will. H. Low. From Underwoods Youth now flees on feathered foot. Faint and fainter sounds the flute, Rarer songs of gods; and still Somewhere on the sunny hill, Or along the winding stream, Through the willows, flits a dream; Flits, but shows a smiling face, Flees, but with so quaint a grace, None can choose to stay at home, All must follow, all must roam. This is unborn beauty: she Now in air floats high and free, Takes the sun and breaks the blue; -- Late with stooping pinion flew Raking hedgerow trees, and wet Her wing in silver streams, and set Shining foot on temple roof: Now again she flies aloof, Coasting mountain clouds and kiss't By the evening's amethyst. In wet wood and miry lane, Still we pant and pound in vain; Still with leaden foot we chace Waning pinion, fainting face; Still with grey hair we stumble on, Till, behold, the vision gone! Where hath fleeting beauty led? To the doorway of the dead. Life is over, life was gay: We have come the primrose way.

Robert Louis Stevenson To Mrs. Will. H. Low. From Underwoods Even in the bluest noonday of July, There could not run the smallest breath of wind But all the quarter sounded like a wood; And in the chequered silence and above The hum of city cabs that sought the Bois, Suburban ashes shivered into song. A patter and a chatter and a chirp And a long dying hiss -- it was as though Starched old brocaded dames through all the house Had trailed a strident skirt, or her whole sky Even in a wink had over-brimmed in rain. Hark, in these shady parlours, how it talks Of the near autumn, how the smitten ash Trembles and augurs floods! O not too long In these inconstant latitudes delay, O not too late from the unbeloved north Trim your escape! For soon shall this low roof Resound indeed with rain, soon shall your eyes Search the foul garden, search the darkened rooms, Nor find one jewel but the blazing log.

Robert Louis Stevenson To N. V. de G. S. From Underwoods The unfathomable sea, and time, and tears, The deeds of heroes and the crimes of kings Dispart us; and the river of events Has, for an age of years, to east and west More widely borne our cradles. Thou to me Art foreign, as when seamen at the dawn Descry a land far off and know not which. So I approach uncertain; so I cruise Round thy mysterious islet, and behold Surf and great mountains and loud river-bars, And from the shore hear inland voices call. Strange is the seaman's heart; he hopes, he fears; Draws closer and sweeps wider from that coast; Last, his rent sail refits, and to the deep His shattered prow uncomforted puts back. Yet as he goes he ponders at the helm Of that bright island; where he feared to touch, His spirit readventures; and for years, Where by his wife he slumbers safe at home, Thoughts of that land revisit him; he sees The eternal mountains beckon, and awakes Yearning for that far home that might have been.

Robert Louis Stevenson To H. F. Brown. From Underwoods (Written during a dangerous sichness) I sit and wait a pair of oars On cis-Elysian river-shores. Where the immortal dead have sate, 'T is mine to sit and meditate; To re-ascend life's rivulet, Without remorse, without regret; And sing my Alma Genetrix Among the willows of the Styx. And lo, as my serener soul Did these unhappy shores patrol, And wait with an attentive ear The coming of the gondolier, Your fire-surviving roll I took, Your spirited and happy book; * Whereon, despite my frowning fate, It did my soul so recreate That all my fancies fled away On a Venetian holiday. Now, thanks to your triumphant care, Your pages clear as April air, The sails, the bells, the birds, I know, And the far-off Friulan snow; The land and sea, the sun and shade, And the blue even lamp-inlaid. For this, for these, for all, O friend, For your whole book from end to end -- For Paron Piero's muttonham -- I your defaulting debtor am. Perchance, reviving, yet may I To your sea-paven city hie, And in a felze, some day yet Light at your pipe my cigarette.

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7th HEAVEN ILLUSTRATED Arunoday Kar

In my site@leastonce a week, OBSERVE weekly wisdom with ILLUSTRATION,called spirituality MadeEasy inTRUISM &KNOW HOW.get aLUCKY7 charm E-mai

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