Tagore, Rabindranath, 1861-1941 / 2008-06-14 00:00:00
EBOOK, FRUIT-GATHERING ***
Original html version created at eldritchpress.org by Eric Eldred.
This eBook was produced by Chetan K. Jain.
Fruit-Gathering
By Rabindranath Tagore
[Translated from Bengali to English by the author]
New York: The Macmillan Company, 1916
I
Bid me and I shall gather my fruits to bring them in full baskets
into your courtyard, though some are lost and some not ripe.
For the season grows heavy with its fulness, and there is a
plaintive shepherd's pipe in the shade.
Bid me and I shall set sail on the river.
The March wind is fretful, fretting the languid waves into
murmurs.
The garden has yielded its all, and in the weary hour of evening
the call comes from your house on the shore in the sunset.
II
My life when young was like a flower--a flower that loosens a
petal or two from her abundance and never feels the loss when the
spring breeze comes to beg at her door.
Now at the end of youth my life is like a fruit, having nothing
to spare, and waiting to offer herself completely with her full
burden of sweetness.
III
Is summer's festival only for fresh blossoms and not also for
withered leaves and faded flowers?
Is the song of the sea in tune only with the rising waves?
Does it not also sing with the waves that fall?
Jewels are woven into the carpet where stands my king, but there
are patient clods waiting to be touched by his feet.
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