Wednesday, May 09, 2007

A Tiny Tagore Translation

A tiny poem by Rabindranath Tagore (I forgot the name of the poem) was going round and round in my head for the past few days. Here is its translation by me.

When the storm comes rushing into the spring fest,
The buds are not scared by it, young leaves laugh in jest.
Only the withered leaf knows the storm’s character;
The storm is but his liberator, what does he have to fear?

That's all I could write today, on his 146th birthday, owing to the tremendous workload at the office. Hopefully a proper post will follow soon.


  1. "When I stand before thee at the day's end, thou shalt see my scars and know that I had my wounds and also my healing"

    I have always loved all that's written by the great Tagore. A nice post indeed. Infact, you have a great blog space and I'll sure be haunting it often.
    Keep posting!

  2. Excellent ... Here are my humble attempts to translate Tagore: