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How is this book unique? Original & Unabridged Edition Tablet and e-reader formatted Short Biography is also included 15 Illustrations are included One of the best books to read Best fiction books of all time Bestselling Novel Classic historical fiction books Gitanjali (Bengali: গীতাঞ্জলি) is a collection of poems by the Indian poet Rabindranath Tago How is this book unique? Original & Unabridged Edition Tablet and e-reader formatted Short Biography is also included 15 Illustrations are included One of the best books to read Best fiction books of all time Bestselling Novel Classic historical fiction books Gitanjali (Bengali: গীতাঞ্জলি) is a collection of poems by the Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore. The original Bengali collection of 157 poems was published on August 14, 1910. The English Gitanjali or Song Offerings is a collection of 103 English poems of Tagore's own English translations of his Bengali poems first published in November 1912 by the India Society of London. It contained translations of 53 poems from the original Bengali Gitanjali, as well as 50 other poems which were from his drama Achalayatan and eight other books of poetry — mainly Gitimalya (17 poems), Naivedya (15 poems) and Kheya (11 poems).[1][2] The translations were often radical, leaving out or altering large chunks of the poem and in one instance fusing two separate poems (song 95, which unifies songs 89,90 of Naivedya). The translations were undertaken prior to a visit to England in 1912, where the poems were extremely well received. In 1913, Tagore became the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize for Literature, largely for the English Gitanjali. The English Gitanjali became very famous in the West, and was widely translated. The word gitanjali is composed from "gita", song, and "anjali", offering, and thus means – "An offering of songs"; but the word for offering, anjali, has a strong devotional connotation, so the title may also be interpreted as "prayer offering of song". Some poems involve themes related to nature, but here, too, the spiritual is subtly present,as in this poem (no. 57): Light, my light, the world-filling light, the eye-kissing light, heart-sweetening light! Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the centre of my life; the light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love; the sky opens, the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth. The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light. Lilies and jasmines surge up on the crest of the waves of light. The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling, and it scatters gems in profusion. Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling, and gladness without measure. The heaven's river has drowned its banks and the flood of joy is abroad.


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How is this book unique? Original & Unabridged Edition Tablet and e-reader formatted Short Biography is also included 15 Illustrations are included One of the best books to read Best fiction books of all time Bestselling Novel Classic historical fiction books Gitanjali (Bengali: গীতাঞ্জলি) is a collection of poems by the Indian poet Rabindranath Tago How is this book unique? Original & Unabridged Edition Tablet and e-reader formatted Short Biography is also included 15 Illustrations are included One of the best books to read Best fiction books of all time Bestselling Novel Classic historical fiction books Gitanjali (Bengali: গীতাঞ্জলি) is a collection of poems by the Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore. The original Bengali collection of 157 poems was published on August 14, 1910. The English Gitanjali or Song Offerings is a collection of 103 English poems of Tagore's own English translations of his Bengali poems first published in November 1912 by the India Society of London. It contained translations of 53 poems from the original Bengali Gitanjali, as well as 50 other poems which were from his drama Achalayatan and eight other books of poetry — mainly Gitimalya (17 poems), Naivedya (15 poems) and Kheya (11 poems).[1][2] The translations were often radical, leaving out or altering large chunks of the poem and in one instance fusing two separate poems (song 95, which unifies songs 89,90 of Naivedya). The translations were undertaken prior to a visit to England in 1912, where the poems were extremely well received. In 1913, Tagore became the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize for Literature, largely for the English Gitanjali. The English Gitanjali became very famous in the West, and was widely translated. The word gitanjali is composed from "gita", song, and "anjali", offering, and thus means – "An offering of songs"; but the word for offering, anjali, has a strong devotional connotation, so the title may also be interpreted as "prayer offering of song". Some poems involve themes related to nature, but here, too, the spiritual is subtly present,as in this poem (no. 57): Light, my light, the world-filling light, the eye-kissing light, heart-sweetening light! Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the centre of my life; the light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love; the sky opens, the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth. The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light. Lilies and jasmines surge up on the crest of the waves of light. The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling, and it scatters gems in profusion. Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling, and gladness without measure. The heaven's river has drowned its banks and the flood of joy is abroad.

30 review for Gitanjali: By Rabindranath Tagore - Illustrated (Comes with a Free Audiobook)

  1. 4 out of 5

    Deepthi

    Warning : I am letting my heart pour out over this review. Might be long. Read it if you want to or if have some time to spare. I always wanted to write a review on Geetanjali, as it has been very close to my heart and always will be, but something stopped me every time I made an attempt. Maybe it was the memory of all the overflowing emotions which I had experienced while reading these poems or it was my immense love and respect for its writer that made me feel unworthy to make any sort of co Warning : I am letting my heart pour out over this review. Might be long. Read it if you want to or if have some time to spare. I always wanted to write a review on Geetanjali, as it has been very close to my heart and always will be, but something stopped me every time I made an attempt. Maybe it was the memory of all the overflowing emotions which I had experienced while reading these poems or it was my immense love and respect for its writer that made me feel unworthy to make any sort of comment on his work, I cannot point out. But today, after my small discussion with Steven on Geetanjali, I walked to my desk, picked my copy of this book, held it tight in my hands as if I might lose myself in my beloved solitude if I don’t hold onto these pages. Geetajali is now sitting next to me; Tagore’s beautiful gleaming eyes are looking lovingly at me, telling me to write this review. He says it is all right, and hence I am writing this review. I am writing this review, because I think I might die if I do not do so and do not ask me why. It was my mother who introduced me to the beautiful world of literature. When I was kid, all I could hear from her were stories she read as a child or stories which she read just for me. As I grew older, she started talking to me about her favorite authors and why they mattered so much. One day, when I was 12, she showed me her copy of Geetanjali which she had read when she was 14(it was a translation in Telugu, our native language). She held it with lot of care as it was an old copy and was in a bad shape, as it was subjected to a of lot of re-readings. She sat next to me and read a few poems aloud, from her favorite passages she had marked as a child. I saw she had tears in her eyes when she was reading and I didn’t understand why. Poetry intimidated me then and I never tried to take it seriously. She smiled at me and said nothing. I looked at her in awe; she looked immensely happy, almost in bliss. And I said nothing. On my 13th birthday, my mother gifted me a beautiful brand-new-hardcover edition of Geetanjali, which was filled with poems in Tagore’s handwriting along with their English translations and beautiful pictures of Bengal. I don’t like celebrating my birthday in the way birthdays are generally celebrated; I turn sociophobic and I just sit at some corner and read during that day of the year. I believe people should be allowed to celebrate their birthday doing what they love the most; hence I read. So like always, I selected my favorite corner of our house, sat down and started reading my new gift. Let me remind you, this was my first serious venture into reading poetry, I didn’t know what to expect but because my mother appreciated it so much I had a lot of expectations from these poems. This is how the book started: 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. I re-read it. I re-read it again. And this went on for next five hours, until I finished reading and re-reading all the 103 poems. After those five hours, once I felt that my heart was content, I ran to hug my mother and thanked her. I was in love. I never knew what it felt like to be in love, but it had to be something like what I was feeling at that moment because it felt so wonderful; almost as if my heart would burst out with happiness. The rest of the day I was gleaming with joy, I was just going on and on about these poems and my mother, my sweet mother, listened to me with all her patience and a smile on her face. Since that day, Geetanjali has always been with me; like a true friend. During those days, I used to fall asleep reading it, carry it to my school, read it whenever I was overjoyed,read it whenever any kind of sadness overtook me; the result was the same: I experienced spiritual bliss every single time. There was a time when I stopped reading all other books, it was just Geetanjali for me. I was having a serious love affair with my new-found favorite book. I am still addicted to this book. I read it everyday, aloud, to let those words sink into my heart with their weight of beauty. It is almost a habit now. Even today I find my eyes filled with tears as I read these poems. But why? I do not have an exact answer for you if you would ask me that. Maybe some books are written for some people. Though he wrote these poems out of spiritual love or maybe for other million reasons, I believed that out of those million reasons, one would have been to support my existence in this world. Words fail me when I try to explain why I am so devoted to this book. Maybe because I have similar spiritual quest going on inside me, or maybe I feel the similar kind of love, if not as great as Tagore's, for the Unknown. Now something about this book, excluding my dramatic emotions related to it. Tagore loved God; loved him in love's literal and truest sense. He was a spiritual man, and his poems depict that love. Only love and nothing else; in its purest and pious form. He sees God in nature, in his friends, in his lover, in children, and in God Himself. Each poem is filled with tenderness of an infant's smile, longing of a lovelorn young woman, sincerity of worshiper, pride of a father and love of a mother. These are few of the poems I personally love: Poem 26 He came and sat by my side but I woke not. What a cursed sleep it was, O miserable me! He came when the night was still; he had his harp in his hands, and my dreams became resonant with its melodies. Alas, why are my nights all thus lost? Ah, why do I ever miss his sight whose breath touches my sleep? Poem 32 By all means they try to hold me secure who love me in this world. But it is otherwise with thy love which is greater than theirs, and thou keepest me free. Lest I forget them they never venture to leave me alone. But day passes by after day and thou art not seen. If I call not thee in my prayers, if I keep not thee in my heart, thy love for me still waits for my love. 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. Another one which depicts his longing for His love: 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. For Tagore, death was reliever. He always looked at death as his friend who would finally take him and make him stand face to face with God. O thou the last fulfilment of life, Death, my death, come and whisper to me! Day after day I have kept watch for thee; for thee have I borne the joys and pangs of life. All that I am, that I have, that I hope and all my love have ever flowed towards thee in depth of secrecy. One final glance from thine eyes and my life will be ever thine own. The flowers have been woven and the garland is ready for the bridegroom. After the wedding the bride shall leave her home and meet her lord alone in the solitude of night. The poems are not in any particular order, they show his freedom of emotions. In one poem he is a beggar asking alms from a king, in one poem he is a king himself. He takes roles of a child, a lover, a farmer, a poet, a prisoner, a musician, to explain his love in various forms but equally great.I wish I could quote every single line from every single poem and show you how lyrical and scintillating his writing is. How his words dance and pour out love! They are simple but yet so profound. Their sincerity and awe-inspiring style is what makes them so beautiful. You should read them and experience that joy of reading a mystic yourself, that is all I can say. You will not be disappointed. P.S: Pardon me if the length was irritating or if my writing made you yawn. I tried to write what came out of my heart at this very moment. Don't let my writing decide if you should read this book or not, read it nevertheless. Like I mentioned before, I wrote this review because I felt that I would die if I do not do so. Hence, this review. A small meager tribute to my beloved Tagore, from that place in my heart where he is residing and will eternally reside.

  2. 4 out of 5

    Dr. Appu Sasidharan

    (Throwback review) The child-mother theme in Gitanjali is unique, just like Tagore's mysticism. "The sleep that flits on baby's eyes- does anybody know from where it comes? Yes, there is a rumor that it has its dwelling where, in the fairy village among shadows of the forest dimly lit with glow-worms, there hang two timid buds of enchantment. From there, it comes to kiss the baby's eyes. The smile that flickers on baby's lips when he sleeps- does anybody know where it was born? Yes, there is a (Throwback review) The child-mother theme in Gitanjali is unique, just like Tagore's mysticism. "The sleep that flits on baby's eyes- does anybody know from where it comes? Yes, there is a rumor that it has its dwelling where, in the fairy village among shadows of the forest dimly lit with glow-worms, there hang two timid buds of enchantment. From there, it comes to kiss the baby's eyes. The smile that flickers on baby's lips when he sleeps- does anybody know where it was born? Yes, there is a rumor that a young pale beam of a crescent moon touched the edge of a vanishing autumn cloud, and there the smile was first born in the dream of a dew- washed morning- the smile that flickers on baby's lips when he sleeps. The sweet, soft freshness that blooms on baby's limbs- does anybody know where it was hidden so long? Yes, when the mother was a young girl, it lay pervading her heart in tender and silent mystery of love- the sweet, soft freshness that has bloomed on baby's limbs." This is one of the best depictions of the child-mother relation I have ever come across in my life, and we can see how he just simply took it to a whole new pedestal from the above lines. According to Tagore, "The butterfly counts not months but moments and has time enough." If we have to make similar moments in our life meaningful, we have to definitely savour each and every line in Gitanjali not once, not twice, but umpteen number of times.

  3. 5 out of 5

    Florencia

    It is the pang of separation It is the pang of separation that spreads throughout the world and gives birth to shapes innumerable in the infinite sky. It is this sorrow of separation that gazes in silence all night from star to star and becomes lyric among rustling leaves in rainy darkness of July. It is this overspreading pain that deepens into loves and desires, into sufferings and joys in human homes; and this it is that ever melts and flows in songs through my poet's heart. May 6, 17 * Also on my It is the pang of separation It is the pang of separation that spreads throughout the world and gives birth to shapes innumerable in the infinite sky. It is this sorrow of separation that gazes in silence all night from star to star and becomes lyric among rustling leaves in rainy darkness of July. It is this overspreading pain that deepens into loves and desires, into sufferings and joys in human homes; and this it is that ever melts and flows in songs through my poet's heart. May 6, 17 * Also on my blog.

  4. 5 out of 5

    Ujjawal Sureka

    Genre: Poetry Publication Date: 1910 Gitanjali is collection of short poems written by the Nobel Prize winner Indian poet, thinker, and philanthropist, who believed that everyone has a gift to be shared with others. His poems are on life, love and divine. They are short, refreshing, emotional, and thought provoking. Some of them are deep with emotion and meaning. The poems capture the essence of life in a beautiful way, here are some of them from the book: ------ " The child, who is decked with prince Genre: Poetry Publication Date: 1910 Gitanjali is collection of short poems written by the Nobel Prize winner Indian poet, thinker, and philanthropist, who believed that everyone has a gift to be shared with others. His poems are on life, love and divine. They are short, refreshing, emotional, and thought provoking. Some of them are deep with emotion and meaning. The poems capture the essence of life in a beautiful way, here are some of them from the book: ------ " 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 first of the earth, if it rob one of the right of entrance to the great fair of common human life." ------ "Day by day thou art making me worthy of the simple, great gifts that thou gavest to me unasked- this sky and the light, this body and the life and the mind- saving me from perils of overmuch desire." ------ " From the words of the poet, men take what meanings please them; yet their last meaning points to thee." ------ " On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time. But it is never lost, my lord. Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands. Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts, buds into blossom, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness. I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed and imagined all work had ceased. In the morning I woke up and found my garden full with wonders of flowers." ------ The contents are written with a deep emotional feel, sometimes it was difficult to grasp the true meaning, great poetry nevertheless. I have to read it again, to entirely grasp all the poems. Highly recommended.

  5. 5 out of 5

    Seemita

    There lived a pair of eyes in whose serenity the dawn and dusk merged, in whose voice the wise found their nerves, in whose heart even hatred turned love and in whose thoughts, a nation found their own. Arguably one of the finest poets of all times, Rabindranath Tagore was an authorial voice in the pre-independence era of India. Born in 1861 and having found his calling at the tender age of eight, Tagore chiselled his artistic bent to perfection by diligently harbouring an observant and free stre There lived a pair of eyes in whose serenity the dawn and dusk merged, in whose voice the wise found their nerves, in whose heart even hatred turned love and in whose thoughts, a nation found their own. Arguably one of the finest poets of all times, Rabindranath Tagore was an authorial voice in the pre-independence era of India. Born in 1861 and having found his calling at the tender age of eight, Tagore chiselled his artistic bent to perfection by diligently harbouring an observant and free stream of thought in his heart. In his lifespan of 80 years, he wrote many poems, dramas and novellas, which bore his distinct trademark: fresh, non-conformist, optimistic, magical. He was also a prolific composer of more than 2000 pieces of music which came to be known as “Rabindra Sangeet” and has since been rendered as a dedicated stream of Indian Classical Music. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1913, the first non – European to receive the honour. Post this, his thought-provoking works found way into many bourgeois alleys and proletarian corridors across the world. Gitanjali is his most famous work. The word’s literal meaning is “Song Offerings”. The original Bengali Gitanjali had 157 poems. But when the translated version in English was published in 1912 by the India Society of London, it took only 50 poems from the original text. The remaining 53 poems were taken from his other works. This edition has an introduction by W B Yeats along with excerpts of prologues by people who undertook Gitanjali’s French, Portuguese and Japanese translations. It also contains Tagore’s Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech. Written as an Ode to the Supreme Master, these 103 poems highlight the many realizations Tagore had under the crimson sky, casting his forlorn eye and pensive heart. The four poems I am sharing in this review are my favorite poems of the collection which may or may not be his most popular ones. Passionately championing the dream that all his countrymen shared at that point in time, he etches out in this beautiful poem the country he wants to breathe in: ’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 towards 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.’ (#35) His keen observation of little blips that can disturb the intimacy that lovers seek in their candid rendezvous is captured in these sparkling lines: ’My song has put off her adornments. She has no pride of dress and decoration. Ornaments would mar our union; they would come between thee and me; their jingling would drown our whispers…' (#7) Deeply drunk in the bounty of nature and ever slipping to hold a fulsome slice of this luscious being, he sings with a mesmerized heart, about its many beautiful children: ’The sleep that flits the baby’s eyes – does anybody know from where it comes? Yes, there is a rumour that it has its dwelling where, in the fairy village among shadows of the forest dimly lit with glow worms, there hang two timid buds of enchantment. From there it comes to kiss baby’s eyes. The smile that flickers on baby’s lips when he sleeps – Does anybody know where it was born? Yes, there is rumour that a young pale beam of a crescent moon touched the edge of a vanishing autumn cloud, and there the smile was first born in the dream of a dew-washed morning – the smile that flickers on baby’s lips when he sleeps. The sweet, soft freshness that blooms on baby’s limbs – Does anybody know where it was hidden so long? Yes, when the mother was a young girl it lay pervading in her heart in tender and silent mystery of love – the sweet, soft freshness that has bloomed on baby’s limbs.’ (#61) At the swoop of death, his philosophical eye merges the two worlds into one, equating their warmth to that of a mother: ’I was not aware of the moment when I first crossed the threshold of this life. What was the power that made me open out into this vast mystery like a bud in the forest at midnight ! When in the morning I looked upon the light I felt in a moment that I was no stranger in this world, that the inscrutable without name and form had taken me in its arms in the form of my own mother. Even so, in death the same unknown will appear as ever known to me. And because I love this life, I know I shall love death as well. The child cries out when from the right breast the mother takes it away, in the very next moment to find in the left one its consolation.’ (#95) Tagore’s scintillating and diverse oeuvre remains unmatched by many a poets who succeeded him. He inspired millions to undertake the baton of chasing dreams irrespective of their colours of existence. And he continues to be a silent source of encouragement to people who attempt to see something beautiful in everything. Yes, everything.

  6. 4 out of 5

    Jareed

    "I read Rabindranath every day, to read one line of his is to forget all the troubles of the world." -Unnamed Bengali Doctor addressing W.B. Yeats, contained in the Introduction Isn’t it just fitting that this masterpiece be introduced by a person no less than William Butler Yeats who is another Nobel Laureate? Tagore received the Nobel in 1913 and Yeats in 1923. It is ostensibly perceivable that Yeats managed to capture the focal points in his Introduction, so quoting parts of Yeats introduction "I read Rabindranath every day, to read one line of his is to forget all the troubles of the world." -Unnamed Bengali Doctor addressing W.B. Yeats, contained in the Introduction Isn’t it just fitting that this masterpiece be introduced by a person no less than William Butler Yeats who is another Nobel Laureate? Tagore received the Nobel in 1913 and Yeats in 1923. It is ostensibly perceivable that Yeats managed to capture the focal points in his Introduction, so quoting parts of Yeats introduction and placing my heartfelt impressions, let me try doing justice to this book, however insufficient that may turn out to be. Gitanjali is a collection of poems, ruminations and rhapsodies, or more accurately Song Offerings, and when you do offer something, you offer it to a higher being, a divine existence of which belief is professed, and so, much of the verses are addressed to a Lord, God, and Master. Yeats in introducing this work to William Rothenstein says: “For all I know, so abundant and simple is this poetry, the new renaissance has been born in your country.”(7) And this is true in both instances that I have read Tagore, just as it was in The Gardener, the poetry was actually simple but it communicates at so many levels owing to the depth that is carried by Tagore's ruminations. “These verses will not lie in little well-printed books upon ladies' tables, who turn the pages with indolent hands that they may sigh over a life without meaning, which is yet all they can know of life, or be carried by students at the university to be laid aside when the work of life begins, but, as the generations pass, travellers will hum them on the highway and men rowing upon the rivers.”(8) And more than a hundred years since its original publication, where in those hundred years we have witnessed, through history’s questioned objectivity, men doubt the ideals of their forefathers and see thier beloved posterities entirely discard what has been handed down, it is extraordinary to enjoy sometime like Gitanjali, which in all its completeness is certainly worthy to be read beyond its year if not entirely a timeless masterpiece on its own. “I have carried the manuscript of these translations about with me for days, reading it in railway trains, or on the top of omnibuses and in restaurants, and I have often had to close it lest some stranger would see how much it moved me.”(9) I too have carried Gitanjali over the days, over a span of daytrips, through the inevitable but longed-for ride home, through talks with friends, and ardent discussions with other students, I sometimes find myself, reading parts of this work, and you really do “forget all the troubles of the world.” But unlike Yeats, I did not hesitate to show the world how much it moved me. If words so masterfully chosen and phrases adroitly matched delivered a gamut of emotions, I welcomed it. If it made me smiled, I smiled, if it made me ponder, I ruminated. I wanted the world to see, I wanted to tell them, this is Gitanjali, and you should read it too. “These lyrics— which are in the original, my Indians tell me, full of subtlety of rhythm, of untranslatable delicacies of colour, of metrical invention—display in their thought a world I have dreamed of all my live long.”(10) And in the same vein, I am perpetually grateful and irretrievably wounded that my experience is defined by a translated medium. Now that is one hell of a dilemma. I could feel the “subtlety of rhythm, of untranslatable delicacies of colour, of metrical invention” which must be so richly contained in Bengali, just inches beyond my reach, but still gravely beyond my reach, unrelentingly clawing at my thoughts reading this. But if there’s one thing that I’ve learned through Tagore, that is, to be thankful for what comes in life. And this is also what I appreciate in Tagore, he loves life, he loves the world, and for that he welcomes death itself in its entirety. I leave you with a customary quotation. “On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. The infinite sky is motionless overhead and the restless water is boisterous. On the seashore of endless worlds the children meet with shouts and dances. They build their houses with sand and they play with empty shells. With withered leaves they weave their boats and smilingly float them on the vast deep. Children have their play on the seashore of worlds. They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets. Pearl fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships, while children gather pebbles and scatter them again. They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets. The sea surges up with laughter and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach. Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children, even like a mother while rocking her baby's cradle. The sea plays with children, and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach. On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. Tempest roams in the pathless sky, ships get wrecked in the trackless water, death is abroad and children play. On the seashore of endless worlds is the great meeting of children.” Other works by Rabindranath Tagore: The Gardener (4 Stars) Nationalism (3 Stars) This book forms part of my remarkably extensive reading list on Nobel Prize for Literature Awardees This review along with other reviews has been cross-posted at imbookedindefinitely A free ebook copy is legally downloadable here, along with a voluminous number of other works: Gutenberg

  7. 5 out of 5

    Shine Sebastian

    So meaningful... so soothing... man, it's so refreshing!! When I started this book, I swore I will never read more than 2-3 pages of it at a time. Because I want to slowly and wholely taste every word, rather than swallow the whole book at once. This is one precious book!! from today's reading-- " The woodlands have hushed their songs, and doors are all shut at every house. Thou art the solitary wayfarer in this deserted street. Oh my only friend, my best beloved, the gates are open in my house - do n So meaningful... so soothing... man, it's so refreshing!! When I started this book, I swore I will never read more than 2-3 pages of it at a time. Because I want to slowly and wholely taste every word, rather than swallow the whole book at once. This is one precious book!! from today's reading-- " The woodlands have hushed their songs, and doors are all shut at every house. Thou art the solitary wayfarer in this deserted street. Oh my only friend, my best beloved, the gates are open in my house - do not pass by like a dream. " " Art thou abroad on this stormy night on thy journey of love, my friend ? The sky groans like one in despair. I have no sleep tonight. Ever and again I open my door and look out on the darkness, my friend! I can see nothing before me. I wonder where lies thy path ! By what dim shore of the ink-black river, by what far edge of the frowning forest, through what mazy depth of gloom art thou threading thy course to come to me, my friend? "

  8. 5 out of 5

    Pulkit Singhal

    Hmm, I seem to be too lost to begin with this review. Maybe, it is going to take some time for me to come out of the world that I have lost myself into while reading Gitanjali. One of the most beautiful collection of poems that I have ever read. It feels as if Tagore is a writer, painter, musician and a charioteer of one's soul, all at the same time. With his words, he paints amazingly vivid landscapes incorporating into his verses all the elements of nature that apart from their own hues and ti Hmm, I seem to be too lost to begin with this review. Maybe, it is going to take some time for me to come out of the world that I have lost myself into while reading Gitanjali. One of the most beautiful collection of poems that I have ever read. It feels as if Tagore is a writer, painter, musician and a charioteer of one's soul, all at the same time. With his words, he paints amazingly vivid landscapes incorporating into his verses all the elements of nature that apart from their own hues and tints carry the brushstrokes of the writer as well. Sometimes, poems are too complex and reader feels utterly lost; Not the case with Tagore's pieces at all. Reading them feels like undertaking a bird's flight which is continuous and is sure to take you with it to the lands interminable. There is timbre of simplicity, depth, romanticism, philosophy, morality and sublime imagery in these texts. I crave for that solitude that Tagore enjoyed and brought out of him such noble and pleasing writings. A beautiful read overall.

  9. 4 out of 5

    Paul E. Morph

    This one really wasn’t for me, Pulitzer Prize winner or not. I think the first reason this left me completely cold is that, as a lifelong atheist, or ‘godless heathen’ if you prefer, I have trouble connecting with a book that is just a long stream of devotion poured out at the feet of a deity. The second reason is that I’m coming to the conclusion that I’m just not a fan of ‘prose poetry’. I love prose and I love poetry but this kind of halfway house just doesn’t do it for me, I’m afraid. My next b This one really wasn’t for me, Pulitzer Prize winner or not. I think the first reason this left me completely cold is that, as a lifelong atheist, or ‘godless heathen’ if you prefer, I have trouble connecting with a book that is just a long stream of devotion poured out at the feet of a deity. The second reason is that I’m coming to the conclusion that I’m just not a fan of ‘prose poetry’. I love prose and I love poetry but this kind of halfway house just doesn’t do it for me, I’m afraid. My next book: Deadly Hands of Kung Fu Omnibus vol. 1

  10. 4 out of 5

    Khashayar Mohammadi

    Best Spiritual poetry I have read in ages.

  11. 4 out of 5

    Amy

    I am already loving this book of poetry, though I fear I will need to read it several times before I can actually say I have consumed it. Let me give you an offering from this morning's reading... "I came out alone on my way to my tryst. But who is this that follows me in the silent dark? I move aside to avoid his presence but I escape him not. He makes the dust rise from the earth with his swagger; he adds his loud voice to every word that I utter. He is my own little self, my lord, he knows no sh I am already loving this book of poetry, though I fear I will need to read it several times before I can actually say I have consumed it. Let me give you an offering from this morning's reading... "I came out alone on my way to my tryst. But who is this that follows me in the silent dark? I move aside to avoid his presence but I escape him not. He makes the dust rise from the earth with his swagger; he adds his loud voice to every word that I utter. He is my own little self, my lord, he knows no shame; but I am ashamed to come to thy door in his company." Updated: Now that I am finished I wish to read it again...but, alas, so many books and so little time. What I adore about these poems is that he writes to the deity, and though many believe in different deities, his words are universal and completely transferable to one's own relationship with some higher power: god, nature, etc. These poems are beautifully simple and highly accessible...a quick read that could be extended into lovely moments of provoking thought.

  12. 5 out of 5

    Reading_ Tam_ Ishly

    All the thous and thees stirred my inner Shakespeare. Made me love the collection so much. I don't even remember I bought this copy in 2007 (what was I doing? Where was I then?) and I thought I was borrowing my brother's book. And an old family photo out of nowhere. Now that's what I called a fictional reading moment of my life. 2021, do not stop surprising me like this. This collection of song prayers by Tagore did bring me peace and calm during these stressful times. "I keep gazing on the far-away gl All the thous and thees stirred my inner Shakespeare. Made me love the collection so much. I don't even remember I bought this copy in 2007 (what was I doing? Where was I then?) and I thought I was borrowing my brother's book. And an old family photo out of nowhere. Now that's what I called a fictional reading moment of my life. 2021, do not stop surprising me like this. This collection of song prayers by Tagore did bring me peace and calm during these stressful times. "I keep gazing on the far-away gloom of the sky, and my heart wanders wailing with the restless wind." (So relatable these days) (But then again, I always look towards hope) "The morning will surely come, the darkness will vanish, and thy voice pour down in golden screams breaking through the sky." (And this is so apt for May!) "This is my delight, thus to wait and watch at the wayside where shadow chases light and the rain comes in the wake of the summer." (And I am enjoying the rain these days!) (Amidst all the chaos...) "There was none in the world who ever saw her face to face, and she remained in her loneliness waiting for thy recognition. Love this collection. I will reread it time and again. Recommended

  13. 4 out of 5

    Asha Seth

    A collection of beautiful poems you might not want to miss reading! Now that I have finished reading it, here are a few that I shall always remember. Day after day, O lord of my life, shall I stand before thee face to face. With folded hands, O lord of all worlds, shall I stand before thee face to face. Under thy great sky in solitude and silence, with humble heart shall I stand before thee face to face. In this laborious world of thine, tumultuous with toil and with struggle, among hurrying crowds sha A collection of beautiful poems you might not want to miss reading! Now that I have finished reading it, here are a few that I shall always remember. Day after day, O lord of my life, shall I stand before thee face to face. With folded hands, O lord of all worlds, shall I stand before thee face to face. Under thy great sky in solitude and silence, with humble heart shall I stand before thee face to face. In this laborious world of thine, tumultuous with toil and with struggle, among hurrying crowds shall I stand before thee face to face. And when my work shall be done in this world, O King of kings, alone and speechless shall I stand before thee face to face. and this one Where the mind is without fear and the head 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 towards 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.

  14. 5 out of 5

    James Henderson

    "Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure." Thus begins this small but rich collection of poems by the Nobel Prize-winning poet Rabindranath Tagore. He sings of the ages that are the gift of the gods. He explores the abundance of human experience from birth to death and beyond. Eros has its place as well in the poems that explore the humanity of young and old. All the while the beauty of nature does not escape his attention. The author's own translation into English from the original Beng "Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure." Thus begins this small but rich collection of poems by the Nobel Prize-winning poet Rabindranath Tagore. He sings of the ages that are the gift of the gods. He explores the abundance of human experience from birth to death and beyond. Eros has its place as well in the poems that explore the humanity of young and old. All the while the beauty of nature does not escape his attention. The author's own translation into English from the original Bengali does not lose the musical quality that must exist in the original language. One may open to almost any page to experience beautiful poetry like these line from Poem 59: "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."(p 77) With an introduction by W. B. Yeats from the original 1913 edition this is a great introduction to a protean writer. His poetry and prose compares with Goethe or Dante in its impact on both his home of India and the world.

  15. 4 out of 5

    Susan Budd

    Gitanjali is a star shining in the darkness.

  16. 4 out of 5

    ~~Poulomi Sylphrena Tonk$~~

    5 beautiful stars! As per Wikipedia, Gitanjali (Song Offerings) is a collection of 103 English poems of Tagore's own English translations of his Bengali poems, containing 53 poems from the original Bengali Gitanjali, as well as 50 other poems which were from his drama Achalayatan and eight other books of poetry — mainly Gitimalya (17 poems), Naivedya (15 poems) and Kheya (11 poems). This was my first glimpse into Tagore's works, streamlined with an essence of the spiritual and devotion to the A 5 beautiful stars! As per Wikipedia, Gitanjali (Song Offerings) is a collection of 103 English poems of Tagore's own English translations of his Bengali poems, containing 53 poems from the original Bengali Gitanjali, as well as 50 other poems which were from his drama Achalayatan and eight other books of poetry — mainly Gitimalya (17 poems), Naivedya (15 poems) and Kheya (11 poems). This was my first glimpse into Tagore's works, streamlined with an essence of the spiritual and devotion to the Almighty. He frequently employs elements from nature and blends them with an undercurrent of sanctity. Despite of the deep meaning trailing his poems, Tagore has a unique style of writing, simple and austere. His words are suffused with a positive energy which is uplifting even in the bleakest of times. I've been reading Gitanjali for a long time. As it is my habit with most poems, I didn't read it at a stretch. I let the words hang in the air for days, inviting it slowly to sink into the flesh and bone. Quoting some of my favorite verses: "All things rush on, they stop not, they look not behind, no power can hold them back, they rush on. Keeping steps with that restless, rapid music, seasons come dancing and pass away—colours, tunes, and perfumes pour in endless cascades in the abounding joy that scatters and gives up and dies every moment." About the race of life. About wonders that are missed because people are racing against each other, pushing their way, their will, exhausting their abilities, not realising where their happiness lies. They are blind to it when it comes. "And because I love this life, I know I shall love death as well. The child cries out when from the right breast the mother takes it away, in the very next moment to find in the left one its consolation." Tagore's devotion to God mounts to a monstrous peak, as he refers to the Almighty as brother, sister, lover, mother, friend, covering all vistas of life. He is ready to embrace death without any hesitation, because to him, it's merely change of one vessel to the other, both sculpted by God. In many verses we sense his desperation of being united with his Lord, how he offers his everything for the singular cause. I'm in no manner much of a spiritual person, myself. But one can attribute diverse meaning from his verses, as ia suitable. The wanderings of a lover's heart, the road to seeking reason in life, introspection into one's own, taking pleasure in the little joys of life- theories abound. I have questions, though. How is one to know that the time has come to be united with God? Tagore repeatedly mentions that he is not due yet, that there is still time. How did he know? It's my lack of experience that has placed me in this position, so I believe the answers will come to me with time. Hopefully, this review will undergo some editing then. A beautiful book. I was worried about the translations, but they seem unexpectedly good, probably because Tagore himself wrote them. 5 stars in all.

  17. 5 out of 5

    Shayantani

    I have often seen my uncle with his tattered and time worn copy of Gitanjali. He had read it so many times that the missing words do not bother him anymore. At an impulse I also bought a very colorful English edition in my 6th standard and it has remained in my book shelves obscured by heftier novels gathering dust and looking tattered for entirely different reasons. College curriculum is arguably a bad way of rediscovering a book which holds so much sentimental value for my loved ones. A colleg I have often seen my uncle with his tattered and time worn copy of Gitanjali. He had read it so many times that the missing words do not bother him anymore. At an impulse I also bought a very colorful English edition in my 6th standard and it has remained in my book shelves obscured by heftier novels gathering dust and looking tattered for entirely different reasons. College curriculum is arguably a bad way of rediscovering a book which holds so much sentimental value for my loved ones. A college curriculum which moreover tests you on two randomly selected verses is a travesty. Thankfully two verses are sometimes just enough to catch a glimpse of the spirit which motivates you to find your copy and read and reread it several times. There is a significant amount of difference among the Bengali and the English version. Tagore himself made the edits selecting 53 poems from the original Bengali collection of 157 poems. The other 50 were from his drama Achalayatan and eight other books of poetry. Other than Tagore, I looked at William Radice’s translation of the poems. It is a good exercise for those not brave enough to tackle the Bengali but who want a glimpse of the mellifluous rhythm and the topical imagery of the original. Some of the significant differences I noticed were the omission of the sensual imagery and sing song rhythm in Tagore’s version. Here is an example: Tagore Alas why are my nights all thus lost? Ah, why ever do I miss his sight whose breath touches my sleeping brow? Radice Why does my night pass by with him so near yet not near? Why does my night pass by with him so near yet not near? Why did the touch of his garland not brush my neck. Other than that I prefer reading ghat instead of beaches and sharad kal and veena instead of mid July weather and musical instrumental. This however is not to say Tagore’s version should be script. Reading Radice acts as an excellent supplement. Verse or prose, Tagore is quite capable of deftly weaving magic in both. The reason why this collection affected me so much is because Tagore’s reaches for more than God. It comes as close to verbalizing the inexplicable as is humanely possible. It is full of a painful sweetness and a joy we have all felt and lost. The poems are full of awareness of its limitation and a continuous striving towards that ultimate goal. My favorite poems are the one involving God as playmate and mother. Like Alice Walker’s Shug Avery, the speaker in Tagore’s poems believe in a God whose “love loses itself in the love of thy lover”. His creation may be a marked by an awareness of its fragility, but he is not marked by an awareness of sin. At the center of the universe is man beloved of God. As a bride, a minstrel, a farmer, a child he strives for his grace through active engagement in the sensual pleasures of creation. Sometimes texts have to find you in exactly the right time of your life to make a proper impact. When that happens they become regular companions. Gitanjali is one of those texts, Tagore is one of those writers.

  18. 4 out of 5

    Bo

    Let My Country Awake Where the mind is without fear and the head 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 towards 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 Let My Country Awake Where the mind is without fear and the head 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 towards 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. Rabindranath Tagore

  19. 4 out of 5

    Dona

    Verses frm Gitanjali r pasted all ovr my room, in my diary, at d back of my notebooks....I even remember participating in a competition( which i was too afraid 2 b in) with a slip of paper in my pocket with verses frm gitanjali scribbled in it.When in doubt, I run 2 Tagore.Who needs bible ven v hav got buks lyk des?

  20. 5 out of 5

    Tanvika

    Gitanjali: Offerings to the divine A Bengali doctor meets Mr Yeats. He tells him ' I read Tagore,every day to forget the troubles in the world'. Mr Yeats was still very curious. Meeting Indians,curators he is surprised by the honor bestowed to the poet. The flowing of the rich mixture of religion, mysticism and poetry smoothens,eases and delights all. We have to tread our own journeys to the unknown. Lighting our own lamps, swimming in the ambiguous seas, gliding like the restless heavy skies , w Gitanjali: Offerings to the divine A Bengali doctor meets Mr Yeats. He tells him ' I read Tagore,every day to forget the troubles in the world'. Mr Yeats was still very curious. Meeting Indians,curators he is surprised by the honor bestowed to the poet. The flowing of the rich mixture of religion, mysticism and poetry smoothens,eases and delights all. We have to tread our own journeys to the unknown. Lighting our own lamps, swimming in the ambiguous seas, gliding like the restless heavy skies , we experience some of the thoughts shown in the poems. 1. Waiting There is little respite, naptimes for the seeker. Like a tumultuous lover,waiting outside the beloved doors. Their is no fear of the thundering clouds or quakes below. It is very unlike the modern day restlessness born out of seeking excessive materials,boredom and dejection. 2. Preparation The seeker, like the bride is always ready. She has her simple mat and lamp shining ceaselessly. She sings with joy,silence and also with tears of joy. There is the presence of the sounds of footsteps outside the house. She is cleaning her mind from bad thoughts and vanity. When will the hour of arrival come? 3. Silence There is a deep stillness around us even within the endless noises. the singer is asked to sing to Him. He is baffled and speechless. People ask the seeker about God.he can't describe and mention him. the one resides in the fragrance within his temple. Getting lost in the hustle and bustle of life,makes us look for escapes. Let's stay for a while,sitting in silence. 4. Joy Joy is everywhere. Especially in the nests,the golden lights,the notorious waves,the heavy skies,the fluttery leaves,the cooing doves, the lotus petals,the cycles of life and death. It echoes the touch of the King of kings. 5. Death As the dark visitor comes to take the seeker away. there are no signs of anxiety. It is a great occasion to submerge the soul in the eternal ocean. The mind no longer clings to the desires of yesterday . 6. Superstition The cunning may build giant temples,wear shiny Robes and carry beads. The almighty will himself depart from their premises and play with the village boys outside. Your excessive ornaments and fancy jewellery is an hindrance to be close to the lover of innocence and plainness. 7. Walls Unaware beings build steep, skyscraping walls. the deceit ,rejections,ambitions make them chained like a bonded slave. The separation of the self from the other leads to further neurosis, suicides,crimes of passions of all kinds. 8. Be like the child. There is a endless world of seas. The children come there to play.they don't know how to swim or catch fishes. They discover him in the simple shells. While,the ship of the explorer wrecks.this poem reminds me of religious stories of Jesus which focus on being like a child,who in his simplicity of heart can receive the divine gifts easily. It also hold true,when we are trying to learn something new ,fresh with curiosity and easy flowing. 9. Union The fusion happens sponetousely. When the traveller sleeps,he comes near him. The empty,vacant seat gets filled with flowers of different kinds. There is no force or compulsion When we do anything with force,there is a anxiety and insecurity. The natural way of doing promotes harmony( Lao Tzu). There are numerous images and experiences in my mind reading these poems. It is a enigmatic tune by the enchanted Indian sage. The rational and sane minds can't unravel it.

  21. 4 out of 5

    Hirdesh

    Review later.

  22. 4 out of 5

    Joey

    This is about devotion to God. It could be a perfect inspirational book for religious people who believe in their callings. On the contrary, atheists like Sam Harris and Richard Dawkins might adduce that there was no divine intervention in writing these songs ; it was a matter of Tagore’s motivation brought about by his past experiences. I only learned from high school social studies that Rabindranath Tagore won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1913. But I never attempted to read his works which This is about devotion to God. It could be a perfect inspirational book for religious people who believe in their callings. On the contrary, atheists like Sam Harris and Richard Dawkins might adduce that there was no divine intervention in writing these songs ; it was a matter of Tagore’s motivation brought about by his past experiences. I only learned from high school social studies that Rabindranath Tagore won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1913. But I never attempted to read his works which made him win one of the prestigious literary prizes in the world as long as the heart of the western writers. I was just aware of the fact that I would take a look at his pictures in awe, for he has this Jesus-like aura. For me then, I had just an impression that he was such a very enlighted literary figure. As a matter of fact,he took my fancy more when I had a nun student who recommended this book since it is her most favorite book. After getting around to it, I have come to understand why she, I guess even other religious people, like this book. Gitanjali means song offerings. Tagore wanted to show his strong devotion to God by singing Him beautiful songs he drew from the deepest part of his heart. No wonder the sentences are so beautifully mesmerizing. Each line can penetrate through your heart as well as might have a profound impact upon people astray from their religious faith. If you are the same with Tagore, you would opine that the God to whom Tagore is devoted is the same God you are devoted to. But if you are an avowed atheist, you could say that the God to whom Tagore is devoted could be in a pantheistic form, for the contents of Tagore’s songs have something to do with all the natural environment. Therefore, offering songs do not directly and clearly refer to whoever or whatever God Tagore may have believed in. No doubt these song offerings could be subject to hermeneutic principle. I may be wrong since I have not read Tagore’s autobiographies nor his other works yet. Nevertheless, I was impressed by the fact that Tagore’s writing styles are the product of a deep, deep impression.

  23. 5 out of 5

    ♥ Ibrahim ♥

    Here is a sample of the beauty of Tagore and this sweet poem was actually sung by a Sr Marie Keyrouz in such a way as to make me cry: Face to Face Day after day, O lord of my life, shall I stand before thee face to face. With folded hands, O lord of all worlds, shall I stand before thee face to face. Under thy great sky in solitude and silence, with humble heart shall I stand before thee face to face. In this laborious world of thine, tumultuous with toil and with struggle, among hurrying crowds shall Here is a sample of the beauty of Tagore and this sweet poem was actually sung by a Sr Marie Keyrouz in such a way as to make me cry: Face to Face Day after day, O lord of my life, shall I stand before thee face to face. With folded hands, O lord of all worlds, shall I stand before thee face to face. Under thy great sky in solitude and silence, with humble heart shall I stand before thee face to face. In this laborious world of thine, tumultuous with toil and with struggle, among hurrying crowds shall I stand before thee face to face. And when my work shall be done in this world, O King of kings, alone and speechless shall I stand before thee face to face. ------------------------------------- I also love the fifth song in this diwan i.e. book of poetry where he craves nothing but to be just close to the Lord. Without the Lord we have no peace or rest, as St. Augustine said, our souls are restless till they find they rest in you (Confessions). Nothing is like being face to face with the Lord in contemplation and adoration. Here is the song of his I also love: I ask for a moment's indulgence to sit by thy side. The works that I have in hand I will finish afterwards. Away from the sight of thy face my heart knows no rest nor respite, and my work becomes an endless toil in a shoreless sea of toil. Today the summer has come at my window with its sighs and murmurs; and the bees are plying their minstrelsy at the court of the flowering grove. Now it is time to sit quite, face to face with thee, and to sing dedication of live in this silent and overflowing leisure. http://www.sacred-texts.com/hin/tagor...

  24. 4 out of 5

    Emily

    A beautiful combination of Indian religion/philosophy and poetry. God has never been compared to the earth in a more enthralling way. This collection of poems made me feel the connection others might have to god,death,pain and being a human.

  25. 4 out of 5

    Tirtha Raj Joshi

    I had always wanted to read Gitanjali since I heard of Rabindranath. And it happened to me that I got to read some of his poems in academic books of literature. They were beautiful, serine, and provided me with the vibes of utmost peace but were not of the kinds to be remembered forever. Well, I finished reading his Gitanjali- a poetry collection. Each poem is equally simpleton, beautiful, and meditative. The feelings of gratitude, acceptance, and love for the God are sweetly interwoven in the po I had always wanted to read Gitanjali since I heard of Rabindranath. And it happened to me that I got to read some of his poems in academic books of literature. They were beautiful, serine, and provided me with the vibes of utmost peace but were not of the kinds to be remembered forever. Well, I finished reading his Gitanjali- a poetry collection. Each poem is equally simpleton, beautiful, and meditative. The feelings of gratitude, acceptance, and love for the God are sweetly interwoven in the poems which fills one’s mind with the sensations of ecstasy. However, the book starts to be a kind of boring because of its no diverse emotions and style. In a nutshell, the book counts on an average.

  26. 4 out of 5

    Piyangie

    I have not read a book of poetry for a while, and when this collection of poems caught my eye, I knew I must read it. I have known that this collection of poems is what primarily contributed to Rabindranath Tagore to win the Nobel Prize for literature in 1913, and that knowledge was an added inducement to my resolution. I don't think I'm quite qualified to review works of poetry, and especially a well-known masterpiece as this. But I couldn't resist the impulse to pen my thoughts out here. Most o I have not read a book of poetry for a while, and when this collection of poems caught my eye, I knew I must read it. I have known that this collection of poems is what primarily contributed to Rabindranath Tagore to win the Nobel Prize for literature in 1913, and that knowledge was an added inducement to my resolution. I don't think I'm quite qualified to review works of poetry, and especially a well-known masterpiece as this. But I couldn't resist the impulse to pen my thoughts out here. Most of the poems in the collection are of a spiritual nature. Although, I do not see share the same spiritual perception with Tagore, I understood why they were called inspirational. And certain poems did inspire me too. I did not understand all the poems in the collection, but could perceive good number of them. However, what I did most enjoy is the gentle beauty and simplicity of these poems and the accompanying rhythm. All these poems I read aloud and was amazed at the different rhythms Tagore has employed. They were very soothing. My favourite poem is No. 35 in the collection: "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 towards perfection; Where the clear stream of reasons 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." This was a moving poem and the true cry of every national irrespective of the country, living in a world divided by religion, culture and class. Overall, it was pleasant to have returned to a collection of poetry in the midst of prose reading; and that too of a legend. It was an enjoyable read and a must read for every poetry lover.

  27. 4 out of 5

    Jaideep Khanduja

    Book Review: Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore: A Journey To Infinity To Discover Yourself http://pebbleinthestillwaters.blogspo... You need to have a big appetite to digest each and every word of Gitanjali written by Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941). The work was originally written in Bengali published over different Bengali books on poetry from where 103 poems have been picked, compiled and consolidated in this book. The translation has been done from Bengali to English by Rabindr Book Review: Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore: A Journey To Infinity To Discover Yourself http://pebbleinthestillwaters.blogspo... You need to have a big appetite to digest each and every word of Gitanjali written by Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941). The work was originally written in Bengali published over different Bengali books on poetry from where 103 poems have been picked, compiled and consolidated in this book. The translation has been done from Bengali to English by Rabindranath Tagore himself. Gitanjali in literal meaning denotes an offering of a handful of songs. Gitanjali when was released first in August 1910, just one day before the date that became our Independence Day later (15th August). And then Gitanjali made Rabindranath Tagore the first non-European to win a Nobel for Literature in 1913. The book shook the whole world and placed India, Rabindranath Tagore and Gitanjali on international arena of literature. These poems are only numbered, not titled. Hence each poem brings a different meaning to each of its reader without getting drifted away by the preconception got generated by reading a title. Each of the poem is thought provoking, intriguing, deeply meaningful and motivational. These poems in Gitanjali are building blocks of anyone within. You read a poem post which it forces you to interrogate yourself, discuss it with yourself to get deeper and deeper to conclude it. In poem no XXXVI Tagore seems to be interacting/ conversing with God telling to accept his prayer to him and fill in the unfilled portion within his heart. Tagore prays to God to give him strength to absorb his joys and sorrows faced in life and not to get drifted away by them. He further adds to his prayer to God to shower his blessings so that love becomes meaningful in life.

  28. 4 out of 5

    Reluctant Anesthetist

    ﺭﺏِّ ﺇﻧﻲ ﻟﻤﺂ ﺃﻧﺰﻟﺖ ﺇﻟﻲ ﻣﻦ ﺧﻴﺮ ﻓﻘﻴﺮ "O My Lord! Truly am I in (desperate) need of any good that You bestow on me!" (Qur’aan: 28:24) 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 ﺭﺏِّ ﺇﻧﻲ ﻟﻤﺂ ﺃﻧﺰﻟﺖ ﺇﻟﻲ ﻣﻦ ﺧﻴﺮ ﻓﻘﻴﺮ "O My Lord! Truly am I in (desperate) need of any good that You bestow on me!" (Qur’aan: 28:24) 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 Untitled My desires are many and my cry is pitiful, but ever didst thou save me by hard refusals; and this strong mercy has been wrought into my life through and through. Day by day thou art making me worthy of the simple, great gifts that thou gavest to me unasked—this sky and the light, this body and the life and the mind—saving me from perils of overmuch desire. There are times when I languidly linger and times when I awaken and hurry in search of my goal; but cruelly thou hidest thyself from before me. Day by day thou art making me worthy of thy full acceptance by refusing me ever and anon, saving me from perils of weak, uncertain desire.

  29. 5 out of 5

    Atri

    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 our chances. 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 hast 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 our chances. 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 thet yet there is time.

  30. 5 out of 5

    Ujjwala Singhania

    The masterpiece of Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore cannot be reviewed by me. It has been a good translation in Hindi but as is always the case, some of the beauty of original language has been lost during the translation. Moreover, it's not the complete work, so, I will look forward to reading another complete work. The masterpiece of Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore cannot be reviewed by me. It has been a good translation in Hindi but as is always the case, some of the beauty of original language has been lost during the translation. Moreover, it's not the complete work, so, I will look forward to reading another complete work.

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