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.
Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it
droop and drop into the dust.
I may not find a place in thy garland, but honour it with a touch
of pain from thy hand and pluck it. I fear lest the day end
before I am aware, and the time of offering go by.
Though its colour be not deep and its smell be faint, use this
flower in thy service and pluck it while there is time.
From: GITANJALI – ‘Song Offerings’
//www.poetseers.org/nobel-prize-for-literature/tagore/git/5-2/> Links//www.poetseers.org/nobel-prize-for-literature/tagore/git/5-2/>
Tagore Short Poems
Tagore Stray Birds
Tagore Poems