Monday, February 22, 2010

Rabindranath Tagore


photo: gb

Lotus

On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind was straying,

and I knew it not. My basket was empty and the flower remained unheeded.


Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up from my

dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange fragrance in the south wind.


That vague sweetness made my heart ache with longing and it seemed to

me that is was the eager breath of the summer seeking for its completion.


I knew not then that it was so near, that it was mine, and that this

perfect sweetness had blossomed in the depth of my own heart.



GITANJALI "Song Offerings" Translations made by the author from the original Bengali.

Rabindranath Tagore, India: Poet, Philosopher, Musician, Writer, Educator, Nobel Laureate (1861-1941)


Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Russian Poetry


ALEXANDER PUSHKIN
(1799-1837)


Winter morning

Cold frost and sunshine: day of wonder!
But you, my friend, are still in slumber -
Wake up, my beauty, time belies:
You dormant eyes, I beg you, broaden
Toward the northerly Aurora,
As though a northern star arise!


Recall last night, the snow was whirling,
Across the sky, the haze was twirling,
The moon, as though a pale dye,
Emerged with yellow through faint clouds.
And there you sat, immersed in doubts,
And now, - just take a look outside:


The snow below the bluish skies,
Like a majestic carpet lies,
And in the light of day it shimmers.
The woods are dusky. Through the frost
The greenish fir-trees are exposed;
And under ice, a river glitters.


The room is lit with amber light.
And bursting, popping in delight
Hot stove still rattles in a fray.
While it is nice to hear its clatter,
Perhaps, we should command to saddle
A fervent mare into the sleight?


And sliding on the morning snow
Dear friend, we'll let our worries go,
And with the zealous mare we'll flee.
We'll visit empty ranges, thence,
The woods, which used to be so dense
And then the shore, so dear to me.

photo:gb