May 7, 2007 at 3:29 pm (robindronath tagore)
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When the creation was new and all the stars shone in their first
splendor, the gods held their assembly in the sky and sang
`Oh, the picture of perfection! the joy unalloyed!’
But one cried of a sudden
—`It seems that somewhere there is a break in the chain of light
and one of the stars has been lost.’
The golden string of their harp snapped,
their song stopped, and they cried in dismay
—`Yes, that lost star was the best,
she was the glory of all heavens!’
From that day the search is unceasing for her,
and the cry goes on from one to the other
that in her the world has lost its one joy!
Only in the deepest silence of night the stars smile
and whisper among themselves
—`Vain is this seeking! unbroken perfection is over all!’
Rabindranath Tagore |
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May 1, 2007 at 6:30 am (robindronath tagore)
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Time is endless in thy hands, my lord.
There is none to count thy minutes.
Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers.
Thou knowest how to wait.
Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower.
We have no time to lose,
and having no time we must scramble for a chance.
We are too poor to be late.
And thus it is that time goes by
while I give it to every querulous man who claims it,
and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last.
At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate be shut;
but I find that yet there is time.
Rabindranath Tagore |
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