On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time. But it is never lost, my lord. Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands. Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts, buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness. I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed and imagined all work had ceased. In the morning I woke up and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.
Tagore Poems
Song Cycle by Reginald Lindsey Sweet (1885 - 1950?)
1. On many an idle day  [sung text not yet checked]
Authorship:
- by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), no title, appears in Gitanjali, no. 81, first published 1912
Based on:
- a text in Bangla (Bengali) by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), appears in গীতাঞ্জলি (Gitanjali), no. 81 [text unavailable]
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
2. If it is the pang of separation  [sung text not yet checked]
It is the pang of separation that spreads throughout the world and gives birth to shapes innumerable in the infinite sky. It is this sorrow of separation that gazes in silence all nights from star to star and becomes lyric among rustling leaves in rainy darkness of July. It is this overspreading pain that deepens into loves and desires, into sufferings and joy in human homes; and this it is that ever melts and flows in songs through my poet's heart.
Authorship:
- by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), no title, appears in Gitanjali, no. 84
Based on:
- a text in Bangla (Bengali) by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), no title, appears in গীতাঞ্জলি (Gitanjali), no. 84 [text unavailable]
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
3. Beautiful is thy wristlet  [sung text not yet checked]
Beautiful is thy wristlet, decked with stars and cunningly wrought in myriad-coloured jewels. But more beautiful to me thy sword with its curve of lightning like the outspread wings of the divine bird of Vishnu, perfectly poised in the angry red light of the sunset. It quivers like the one last response of life in ecstasy of pain at the final stroke of death; it shines like the pure flame of being burning up earthly sense with one fierce flash. Beautiful is thy wristlet, decked with starry gems; but thy sword, O lord of thunder, is wrought with uttermost beauty, terrible to behold or think of.
Authorship:
- by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), no title, appears in Gitanjali, no. 53, first published 1912
Based on:
- a text in Bangla (Bengali) by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), appears in গীতাঞ্জলি (Gitanjali), no. 53 [text unavailable]
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
4. If it is not my portion  [sung text not yet checked]
If it is not my portion to meet thee in this life then let me ever feel that I have missed thy sight - let me not forget for a moment, let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams and in my wakeful hours. As my days pass in the crowded market of this world and my hands grow full with the daily profits, let me ever feel that I have gained nothing - let me not forget for a moment, let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams and in my wakeful hours. When I sit by the roadside, tired and panting, when I spread my bed low in the dust, let me ever feel that the long journey is still before me - let me not forget a moment, let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams and in my wakeful hours. When my rooms have been decked out and the flutes sound and the laughter there is loud, let me ever feel that I have not invited thee to my house - let me not forget for a moment, let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams and in my wakeful hours.
Authorship:
- by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), no title, appears in Gitanjali, no. 79, first published 1912
Based on:
- a text in Bangla (Bengali) by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), appears in গীতাঞ্জলি (Gitanjali), no. 79 [text unavailable]
Go to the single-text view
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission