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tavleen_words's review against another edition
5.0
"Does the earth, like a harp, shiver into songs with the touch of my feet?
Is it true that the dewdrops fall from the eyes of, night when I am seen, and the morning light is glad when it wraps my body round?
It is true, is it true, that your love travelled alone through ages and world's in search of me?
That when you found me at last, your age-long desire found utter peace in my gentle speech and my eyes and lips and flowing hair?"
The Gardener by Rabindranath Tagore is a collection of eighty-five translated Bengali poems. It is one of the most beautiful collections of poetry I have ever read. I absolutely cannot wait to read more of Tagore.
Is it true that the dewdrops fall from the eyes of, night when I am seen, and the morning light is glad when it wraps my body round?
It is true, is it true, that your love travelled alone through ages and world's in search of me?
That when you found me at last, your age-long desire found utter peace in my gentle speech and my eyes and lips and flowing hair?"
The Gardener by Rabindranath Tagore is a collection of eighty-five translated Bengali poems. It is one of the most beautiful collections of poetry I have ever read. I absolutely cannot wait to read more of Tagore.
djoshuva's review against another edition
5.0
“Let your life lightly dance on the
edges of Time like dew on the tip of
a leaf.”
edges of Time like dew on the tip of
a leaf.”
trsr's review against another edition
4.0
How wonderful and strange to read Tagore in 2013, a full hundred years since his receiving the Nobel Prize in literature. [b:The Gardener|166346|The Gardener|Rabindranath Tagore|http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1367193168s/166346.jpg|784925] is wonderful because Tagore's poetry, ranging from rumination to rhapsody, mixes rural settings and nature so evocatively with his internal world of thoughts and feelings. I particularly liked a few verses on the ephemeral nature of beauty and loss, on growing old, on the connection between human and animal beings, and on what the Earth provides. And reading [b:The Gardener|166346|The Gardener|Rabindranath Tagore|http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1367193168s/166346.jpg|784925] a 100 years later is strange because of what he writes in his final stanza:
Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence?
I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the
spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds.
Open your doors and look abroad.
From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the
vanished flowers of an hundred years before.
In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang
one spring morning, sending its glad voice across an hundred
years.
Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence?
I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the
spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds.
Open your doors and look abroad.
From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the
vanished flowers of an hundred years before.
In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang
one spring morning, sending its glad voice across an hundred
years.
zegim's review against another edition
3.0
La poesía de Tagore más que leerse en un libro, de principio a fin, poema por poema, es preferible leerla un poema a la vez, escogido al azar y dejar que las palabras que retratan un momento en el tiempo y espacio fluyan con la misma serenidad que las escenas que describen.
No hay conflicto ni pasiones desbordadas, no existe la angustia ni el arrebato, las palabras de Tagore son como una brisa, suaves pero bien definidas. Cada poema muestra un mundo tan en equilibrio que no hay modo en el que los sentidos no sean estimulados y la imaginación vuele. Se puede percibir la fragancia de un jardín repleto de flores, escuchar el rumor del agua corriente, sentir el roce de la piel de otra persona y falta poco para poder ver lo que Tagore veía al escribir su poesía.
Sin embargo, también es complicado desprenderse de las ideas preconcebidas acerca de lo que la poesía debe o no debe ser. Las rimas no existen y los versos no parecen seguir ritmo alguno, lo cuál puede ser producto de la traducción, o puede que así sea también la poesía en su idioma original, el Bengalí.
El jardinero es un libro para imaginar la belleza de la naturaleza y los placeres simples de la vida. En cierto modo, es un pequeño jardín en medio del mundo moderno en el que ahora vivimos.
No hay conflicto ni pasiones desbordadas, no existe la angustia ni el arrebato, las palabras de Tagore son como una brisa, suaves pero bien definidas. Cada poema muestra un mundo tan en equilibrio que no hay modo en el que los sentidos no sean estimulados y la imaginación vuele. Se puede percibir la fragancia de un jardín repleto de flores, escuchar el rumor del agua corriente, sentir el roce de la piel de otra persona y falta poco para poder ver lo que Tagore veía al escribir su poesía.
Sin embargo, también es complicado desprenderse de las ideas preconcebidas acerca de lo que la poesía debe o no debe ser. Las rimas no existen y los versos no parecen seguir ritmo alguno, lo cuál puede ser producto de la traducción, o puede que así sea también la poesía en su idioma original, el Bengalí.
El jardinero es un libro para imaginar la belleza de la naturaleza y los placeres simples de la vida. En cierto modo, es un pequeño jardín en medio del mundo moderno en el que ahora vivimos.
tavleen_words's review against another edition
5.0
"Does the earth, like a harp, shiver into songs with the touch of my feet?
Is it true that the dewdrops fall from the eyes of, night when I am seen, and the morning light is glad when it wraps my body round?
It is true, is it true, that your love travelled alone through ages and world's in search of me?
That when you found me at last, your age-long desire found utter peace in my gentle speech and my eyes and lips and flowing hair?"
The Gardener by Rabindranath Tagore is a collection of eighty-five translated Bengali poems. It is one of the most beautiful collections of poetry I have ever read. I absolutely cannot wait to read more of Tagore.
Is it true that the dewdrops fall from the eyes of, night when I am seen, and the morning light is glad when it wraps my body round?
It is true, is it true, that your love travelled alone through ages and world's in search of me?
That when you found me at last, your age-long desire found utter peace in my gentle speech and my eyes and lips and flowing hair?"
The Gardener by Rabindranath Tagore is a collection of eighty-five translated Bengali poems. It is one of the most beautiful collections of poetry I have ever read. I absolutely cannot wait to read more of Tagore.
misskeesa's review against another edition
5.0
Rabindranath Tagore (whose name I had to Google to find out how to pronounce it) has become one of my favorite poets. I especially love his nature poems. Reading them I feel the heat of the summer sun, see the water sparkle in the brook, hear the thunder tremble the heavens. They remind me of home, and make me happy.
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