The World of Tagore
Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sign.
——Rabindranarath Tagore
No matter when I open the book of Rabindranath Tagore, and no matter which page I turn to, I’ll always start reading joyfully. Then I shall fall into the world of Tagore. That’s a colourful world full of vitality, happiness, brightness and love.
He praised all living things——animals, plants, flowing water and the sky. He treats those beautiful creatures as little babies.
Now the flowers are in high bloom And I call, "Come back, my darling. The children gather and scatter flowers in reckless sport. And if you come and take one little blossom no one will miss it."
He liked to express his happiness to everybody, the happiness that makes the ocean and the grassland joy, the happiness that let the twins of birth and death dance together, the happiness that shocks all the living beings with storms and laughers, the happiness that quietly sits on a blooming red lotus with tears in eyes, the happiness that leaves the whole world behind. I love the feeling of his happiness.
In the gusty night when the rain patters on the leaves You will hear my whisper in your bed, and my laughter will flash With the lightning through the open window into your room. He sang for love with all his heart. Love, without doubt, is a forever subject.
The world puts off its mask of vastness to its lover It becomes small as one song, as one kiss of the eternal He was a famous scholar, poet and writer. He was the first Asian who won the Nobel Prize. But he was very strict with himself. In Tagore’s poems we can always find words telling us to save time and receive knowledge as much as possible. I think that’s why he could get such great success.
Those that used to play are playing still, so spendthrift is life Reading these words, our hearts will fly across the deep blue sky as we have wings. We’ll have a feeling of success; the sadness deep in our minds will be wiped away by Tagore’s happy wind.
Why not live like that? Why not accept the happiness that gives us the power to live a better life? We need to read Tagore.
Who can keep the pen of art and a faithful heart like a child? Who can describe the wonderful scene that children’s sleep was stolen? Only Tagore! Forever Tagore!
Now, words are extra. All we should do is quietly step into the Palace of Tagore .Let us listen.
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