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Rabindranath Tagore

Rabindranath Tagore Books

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The Gardener

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The Lover of God

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The Wreck

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失群的鳥

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“This is my prayer to thee, my lord - strike, strike at the root of penury in my heart. Give me the strength lightly to bear my joys and sorrows. Give me the strength to make my love fruitful in service. Give me the strength never to disown the poor or bend my knees before insolent might. Give me the strength to raise my mind high above daily trifles. And give me the strength to surrender my strength to thy will with love.”

“আত্মা অন্য আত্মার সংঘর্ষে তবেই আপনাকে সম্পুর্ণরূপে অনুভব করিতে পারে, তবেই সে মিলনের আধ্যাত্নিকতা পরিপূর্ণ মাত্রায় মন্থিত হইয়া উঠে । একাকার হইয়া থাকা কিছু না থাকার ঠিক পরেই । কোনো একজন ইংরাজ কবি লিখিয়াছেন, ঈশ্বর, আপনারই পিতৃ-অংশ এবং মাতৃ-অংশকে স্ত্রী-পুরুষরূপে পৃথিবীতে ভাগ করিয়া দিয়েছেন; সেই দুই বিচ্ছিন্ন অংশ এক হইবার জন্য পরস্পরের প্রতি এমন অনিবার্য আনন্দে আকৃষ্ট হইতেছে; কিন্তু এই বিচ্ছেদটি না হইলে পরস্পরের মধ্যে এমন প্রগাঢ় পরিচয় হইত না । প্রবন্ধঃ সৌন্দর্যের সম্বন্ধ”

“The question why there is evil in existence is the same as why there is imperfection, or in other words, why there is creation at all. We must take it for granted that it could not be otherwise, that creation must be imperfect, must be gradual, and that it is futile to ask the question, ‘Why are we?’ But this is the real question we ought to ask: Is this imperfection the final truth? Is evil absolute and ultimate? The river has its boundaries, its bank, but is a river all banks or are the banks the final facts about the river? Do not these obstructions themselves give its water an onward motion? The towing rope binds a boat, but is bondage its meaning? Does it not at the same time draw the boat forward? The current of the world has its boundaries, otherwise it could have no existence, but its purpose is not shown in the boundaries which restrain it, but in its movement which is towards perfection. The wonder is not that there should be obstacles and sufferings in this world, but that there should be law and order, beauty and joy, goodness and love. The idea of God that man has in his being is the wonder of all wonders. He has felt in the depths of his life that what appears as imperfect is the manifestation of the perfect. Just as a man who has an ear for music realises the perfection of a song, while in fact he is only listening to a succession of notes. Man has found out the great paradox that what is limited is not imprisoned within its limits; it is ever moving, and therewith shedding its finitude every moment. In fact, imperfection is not a negation of perfectness. Finitude is not contradictory to the infinity. They are but completeness manifested in parts; infinity revealed within bounds.”

“In learning a language, when from mere words we reach the laws of words, we have gained a great deal. But if we stop at that point and concern ourselves only with the marvels of the formation of a language, seeking the hidden reason of all its apparent caprices, we do not reach that end, for grammar is not literature… When we come to literature, we find that, though it conforms to the rules of grammar, it is yet a thing of joy; it is freedom itself. The beauty of a poem is bound by strict laws, yet it transcends them. The laws are its wings. They do not keep it weighed down. They carry it to freedom. Its form is in law, but its spirit is in beauty. Law is the first step toward freedom, and beauty is the complete liberation which stands on the pedestal of law. Beauty harmonizes in itself the limit and the beyond – the law and the liberty.”

“Let all the strains of joy mingle in my last song—the joy that makes the earth flow over in the riotous excess of the grass, the joy that sets the twin brothers, life and death, dancing over the wide world, the joy that sweeps in with the tempest, shaking and waking all life with laughter, the joy that sits still with its tears on the open red lotus of pain, and the joy that throws everything it has upon the dust, and knows not a word.”

“উপনিষদে লিখছে, এক ডালে দুই পাখি আছে,তার মধ্যে এক পাখি খায় আর এক পাখি দেখে। যে-পাখি দেখছে তারই আনন্দ বড়ো আনন্দ। কেননা, তার সে বিশুদ্ধ আনন্দ, মুক্ত আনন্দ। মানুষের নিজের মধ্যেই এই দুই পাখি আছে। এক পাখির প্রয়োজন আছে, আর-এক পাখির প্রয়োজন নেই। এক পাখি ভোগ করে, আর-এক পাখি দেখে। যে-পাখি ভোগ করে সে নির্মাণ করে, যে-পাখি দেখে সে সৃষ্টি করে। নির্মাণ করা মানে মাপে তৈরি করা, অর্থাৎ যেটা তৈরি হচ্ছে সেইটেই চরম নয়, সেইটেকে অন্য কিছুর মাপে তৈরি করা--নিজের প্রয়োজনের মাপে বা অন্যের প্রয়োজনের মাপে। আর, সৃষ্টি করা অন্য কোনো-কিছুর মাপের অপেক্ষা করে না, সে হচ্ছে নিজেকে সর্জন করা, নিজেকেই প্রকাশ করা। এইজন্য ভোগী পাখি যে-সমস্ত উপকরণ নিয়ে কাজ করছে তা প্রধানত বাইরের উপকরণ, আর দ্রষ্টা পাখির উপকরণ হচ্ছে আমি-পদার্থ। এই আমির প্রকাশই সাহিত্য, আর্ট। তার মধ্যে কোনো দায়ই নেই, কর্তব্যের দায়ও না।”

“We know something about a system of explosive atoms whirling separately in a space which is immense compared to their own dimension. Yet we do not know why they should appear to us a solid piece of radiant mineral. And if there is an onlooker who at one glance can have the view of the immense time and space occupied by innumerable human individuals engaged in evolving a common history, the positive truth of their solidarity will be concretely evident to him and not the negative fact of their separateness.”

“পণ্ডিত বলছেন- বুড়ো চন্দ্রটা, নিষ্ঠুর চতুর হাসি তার, মৃত্যুদূতের মতো গুঁড়ি মেরে আসছে সে পৃথিবীর পাঁজরের কাছে। একদিন দেবে চরম টান তার সাগরে পর্বতে; মর্তলোকে মহাকালের নূতন খাতায় পাতা জুড়ে নামবে একটা শূন্য, গিলে ফেলবে দিনরাতের জমাখরচ; মানুষের কীর্তি হারাবে অমরতার ভান, তার ইতিহাসে লেপে দেবে অনন্ত রাত্রির কালি।”

“We women are weak," replied Bimala. "So I suppose we must join in the conspiracy of the weak." "Women weak!" I exclaimed with a laugh. "Men belaud you as delicate and fragile, so as to delude you into thinking yourselves weak. But it is you women who are strong. Men make a great outward show of their so-called freedom, but those who know their inner minds are aware of their bondage. They have manufactured scriptures with their own hands to bind themselves; with their very idealism they have made golden fetters of women to wind round their body and mind. If men had not that extraordinary faculty of entangling themselves in meshes of their own contriving, nothing could have kept them bound. But as for you women, you have desired to conceive reality with body and soul. You have given birth to reality. You have suckled reality at your breasts.”

“The time has come when I must divest Bimala of all the ideal decorations with which I decked her. It was owing to my own weakness that I indulged in such idolatry. I was too greedy. I created an angel of Bimala, in order to exaggerate my own enjoyment. But Bimala is what she is. It is preposterous to expect that she should assume the role of an angel for my pleasure. The Creator is under no obligation to supply me with angels, just because I have an avidity for imaginary perfection.”

“The child who is decked with prince’s robes and who has jewelled chains round his neck loses all pleasure in his play; his dress hampers him at every step. In fear that it may be frayed, or stained with dust he keeps himself from the world, and is afraid even to move. Mother, it is no gain, thy bondage of finery, if it keep one shut off from the healthful dust of the earth, if it rob one of the right of entrance to the great fair of common human life.”

“I will deck thee with trophies, garlands of my defeat. It is never in my power to escape unconquered. I surely know my pride will go to the wall, my life will burst its bonds in exceeding pain, and my empty heart will sob out in music like a hollow reed, and the stone will melt in tears. I surely know the hundred petals of a lotus will not remain closed for ever and the secret recess of its honey will be bared. From the blue sky an eye shall gaze upon me and summon me in silence. Nothing will be left for me, nothing whatever, and utter death shall I receive at thy feet.”

“To try to give our infatuation a higher place than Truth is a sign of inherent slavishness. Where our minds are free we find ourselves lost. Our moribund vitality must have for its rider either some fantasy, or someone in authority, or a sanction from the pundits, in order to make it move. So long as we are impervious to truth and have to be moved by some hypnotic stimulus, we must know that we lack the capacity for self- government. Whatever may be our condition, we shall either need some imaginary ghost or some actual medicine-man to terrorize over us.”

“সে যখন বিদায় নিয়ে গেল, তখন নবমীর চাঁদ অস্তাচলে যায় গভীর রাতি নিঝুম চারি দিক, আকাশেতে তারা অনিমিখ, ধরণী নীরবে ঘুমায় । হাত দুটি তার ধরে দুই হাতে মুখের পানে চেয়ে সে রহিল , কাননে বকুল তরুতলে একটিও সে কথা না কহিল । অধরে প্রাণের মলিন ছায়া , চোখের জলে মলিন চাঁদের আলো , যাবার বেলা দুটি কথা বলে বনপথ দিয়ে সে চলে গেল ।”

“It’s not natural for members of a society to adopt a calm, rational stance towards a group of people who violate social restrictions to act in a contrary fashion in all matters. Society is bound to misunderstand them, ascribing perverse motives to their straightforward actions, viewing as evil whatever they regard as good. So it should be. It is one of the penalties to be paid for deliberately breaking social laws.”

“SERVANT. Have mercy upon your servant, my queen! QUEEN. The assembly is over and my servants are all gone. Why do you come at this late hour? SERVANT. When you have finished with others, that is my time. I come to ask what remains for your last servant to do. QUEEN. What can you expect when it is too late? SERVANT. Make me the gardener of your flower garden. QUEEN. What folly is this? SERVANT. I will give up my other work. I will throw my swords and lances down in the dust. Do not send me to distant courts; do not bid me undertake new conquests. But make me the gardener of your flower garden. QUEEN. What will your duties be? SERVANT. The service of your idle days. I will keep fresh the grassy path where you walk in the morning, where your feet will be greeted with praise at every step by the flowers eager for death. I will swing you in a swing among the branches of the saptaparna, where the early evening moon will struggle to kiss your skirt through the leaves. I will replenish with scented oil the lamp that burns by your bedside, and decorate your footstool with sandal and saffron paste in wondrous designs. QUEEN. What will you have for your reward? SERVANT. To be allowed to hold your little fists like tender lotus-buds and slip flower chains over your wrists; to tinge the soles of your feet with the red juice of ashoka petals and kiss away the speck of dust that may chance to linger there. QUEEN. Your prayers are granted, my servant, you will be the gardener of my flower garden.”

“Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high; Where knowledge is free; Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls; Where words come out from the depth of truth; Where tireless striving stretches its arms toward perfection; Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit; Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action - Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.”