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137 reviews for:
The Gitanjali (English): The Nobel prize Winner Book for Literature
Rabindranath Tagore
4.14 AVERAGE
137 reviews for:
The Gitanjali (English): The Nobel prize Winner Book for Literature
Rabindranath Tagore
4.14 AVERAGE
104 Sublime and beautiful poems. Loved loved loved it w all my heart.
I was unfamiliar with either this collection or the poet himself until I came across this in Serial Reader, despite the fact that Rabindranath Tagore won the Nobel Prize for Literature (and apparently largely for this particular collection).
I'm not surprised to learn that Tagore is a Nobel laureate. I only connected on a personal level with a few of the poems, but they are all just so lyrically beautiful that I couldn't help but enjoy each one. Tagore translated this collection himself, and did a beautiful job in the translation. The more traditional poetic language used can sometimes sound stuffy to the modern ear, but this was lovely, and I read almost every poem out loud to myself.
I definitely recommend this to anyone looking for a poetry collection to read.
I'm not surprised to learn that Tagore is a Nobel laureate. I only connected on a personal level with a few of the poems, but they are all just so lyrically beautiful that I couldn't help but enjoy each one. Tagore translated this collection himself, and did a beautiful job in the translation. The more traditional poetic language used can sometimes sound stuffy to the modern ear, but this was lovely, and I read almost every poem out loud to myself.
I definitely recommend this to anyone looking for a poetry collection to read.
The beauty of Tagore's poetry is undeniable. It is his simplicity and earnestness which appeal to me. Tagore writes with great humility and love, and although a few poems elude me due to my lack of cultural knowledge (the poems about a sword, the poem about pearls for mother, and a few others), the overall effect is very human, very moving, very powerful. I am most moved by Tagore's poems when he is writing from a place of selfless humility about overwhelming love for God, and when he is writing about death. There was one poem that stuck out to me as feeling clumsy and overly aphoristic (#31), but almost every other poem moved me deeply. A couple of my favourites:
43:
The day was when I did not keep myself in readiness for thee; and entering my heart unbidden even as one of the common crowd, unknown to me, my king, thou didst press the signet of eternity upon many a fleeting moment of my life.
And to-day when by chance I light upon them and see thy signature, I find they have lain scattered in the dust mixed with the memory of joys and sorrows of my trivial days forgotten.
Thou didst not turn in contempt from my childish play among dust, and the steps that I heard in my playroom are the same that are echoing from star to star.
and
62:
When I bring to you coloured toys, my child, I understand why there is such a play of colours on clouds, on water, and why flowers are painted in tints—when I give coloured toys to you, my child.
When I sing to make you dance I truly know why there is music in leaves, and why waves send their chorus of voices to the heart of the listening earth—when I sing to make you dance.
When I bring sweet things to your greedy hands I know why there is honey in the cup of the flower and why fruits are secretly filled with sweet juice—when I bring sweet things to your greedy hands.
When I kiss your face to make you smile, my darling, I surely understand what the pleasure is that streams from the sky in morning light, and what delight that is which the summer breeze brings to my body—when I kiss you to make you smile.
43:
The day was when I did not keep myself in readiness for thee; and entering my heart unbidden even as one of the common crowd, unknown to me, my king, thou didst press the signet of eternity upon many a fleeting moment of my life.
And to-day when by chance I light upon them and see thy signature, I find they have lain scattered in the dust mixed with the memory of joys and sorrows of my trivial days forgotten.
Thou didst not turn in contempt from my childish play among dust, and the steps that I heard in my playroom are the same that are echoing from star to star.
and
62:
When I bring to you coloured toys, my child, I understand why there is such a play of colours on clouds, on water, and why flowers are painted in tints—when I give coloured toys to you, my child.
When I sing to make you dance I truly know why there is music in leaves, and why waves send their chorus of voices to the heart of the listening earth—when I sing to make you dance.
When I bring sweet things to your greedy hands I know why there is honey in the cup of the flower and why fruits are secretly filled with sweet juice—when I bring sweet things to your greedy hands.
When I kiss your face to make you smile, my darling, I surely understand what the pleasure is that streams from the sky in morning light, and what delight that is which the summer breeze brings to my body—when I kiss you to make you smile.
This was a hard read for me. I am not really into poetry, nor am I very religious but I read this for the ReadHarder 2017 Challenge 23: Read a collection of poetry in translation on a theme other than love. I really didn't know what I was reading most of the time, that's probably why it took me about 4 months to read 82 pages. Sometimes it sounded really pretty but I am not sure if I truly understood it.
reflective
These are some of the most beautiful poems I've ever read. I don't say that very often, but that's the description that I keep circling back to. I had a hard time getting into them because I'm not big on religious poetry, but I found a way around it that let me enjoy them immensely: I told myself that these poems were by a Companion about The Doctor, and I immediately felt the connection I would have otherwise missed. Blasphemous? Possibly. But it worked.
While I struggled through some of these poems the ones that connected with me resonated more then most other poetry I have ever read.