Songs, The small bird...
THE small bird cries out in the nest of my heart, where is its mate ?
The leaves are thick around it, the shadows dark, the silent hours are laden low with slumber and the small bird knows no sleep.
The night drowses with its drooping head, the eyes of the stars are unconscious.
The pale sky is dreaming, the moon has lost its steps in the emptiness, and the small bird cries out in the nest of my heart.
Rabindranath Tagore, "Ingareji Rupantar", Rabindra Beeksaa, vol. 17, Rabindra-Bhavan*, Aug 1987
*Rabindranath's own translations of a number of his poems and songs during his 1912-13 stay in America were collected and later turned over to the Rabindra-Bhavan by his American friends. Like many others, these are his transcreations that do not always follow the original.
The leaves are thick around it, the shadows dark, the silent hours are laden low with slumber and the small bird knows no sleep.
The night drowses with its drooping head, the eyes of the stars are unconscious.
The pale sky is dreaming, the moon has lost its steps in the emptiness, and the small bird cries out in the nest of my heart.
Rabindranath Tagore, "Ingareji Rupantar", Rabindra Beeksaa, vol. 17, Rabindra-Bhavan*, Aug 1987
*Rabindranath's own translations of a number of his poems and songs during his 1912-13 stay in America were collected and later turned over to the Rabindra-Bhavan by his American friends. Like many others, these are his transcreations that do not always follow the original.
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