Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

Gitanjali
Gitanjali
Gitanjali
Ebook129 pages2 hours

Gitanjali

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars

()

Read preview

About this ebook

First published in English in 1912, “Gitanjali”, or “Song Offerings”, is a collection of poems translated by the author, Rabindranath Tagore, from the original Bengali. It contains over 100 inspirational poems by India’s greatest poet and earned Tagore the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1913. Tagore, known as the “Bard of Bengal”, was born in 1861 to a wealthy family and started writing poetry as a child and began publishing critically acclaimed verses as a teenager. Tagore went on to write novels, stories, and dramas, work which would reshape Bengali literature and culture. He first published the “Gitanjali” collection of poems, widely considered to be one of his best works, in his native Bengali language in 1911. The original Bengali version contained over 150 verses and many were combined or edited out when Tagore translated them into English. Deeply spiritual and devotional, Tagore’s poems are primarily concerned with love and the conflict between earthly desires and spiritual passions and longings. Tagore also spoke eloquently and movingly of his connection to the natural world. This volume includes the introduction by William Butler Yeats that accompanied the original 1912 English language version. This edition includes a biographical afterword.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateDec 23, 2019
ISBN9781420965001
Author

Rabindranath Tagore

Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941) was an Indian poet, composer, philosopher, and painter from Bengal. Born to a prominent Brahmo Samaj family, Tagore was raised mostly by servants following his mother’s untimely death. His father, a leading philosopher and reformer, hosted countless artists and intellectuals at the family mansion in Calcutta, introducing his children to poets, philosophers, and musicians from a young age. Tagore avoided conventional education, instead reading voraciously and studying astronomy, science, Sanskrit, and classical Indian poetry. As a teenager, he began publishing poems and short stories in Bengali and Maithili. Following his father’s wish for him to become a barrister, Tagore read law for a brief period at University College London, where he soon turned to studying the works of Shakespeare and Thomas Browne. In 1883, Tagore returned to India to marry and manage his ancestral estates. During this time, Tagore published his Manasi (1890) poems and met the folk poet Gagan Harkara, with whom he would work to compose popular songs. In 1901, having written countless poems, plays, and short stories, Tagore founded an ashram, but his work as a spiritual leader was tragically disrupted by the deaths of his wife and two of their children, followed by his father’s death in 1905. In 1913, Tagore was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, making him the first lyricist and non-European to be awarded the distinction. Over the next several decades, Tagore wrote his influential novel The Home and the World (1916), toured dozens of countries, and advocated on behalf of Dalits and other oppressed peoples.

Read more from Rabindranath Tagore

Related authors

Related to Gitanjali

Related ebooks

Poetry For You

View More

Related articles

Related categories

Reviews for Gitanjali

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars
0 ratings

0 ratings0 reviews

What did you think?

Tap to rate

Review must be at least 10 words

    Book preview

    Gitanjali - Rabindranath Tagore

    cover.jpg

    GITANJALI

    Translated by RABINDRANATH TAGORE

    SONG OFFERINGS

    A COLLECTION OF PROSE TRANSLATIONS

    MADE BY THE AUTHOR FROM THE ORIGINAL BENGALI

    WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY W. B. YEATS TO WILLIAM ROTHENSTEIN

    Gitanjali

    Translated by Rabindranath Tagore

    Introduction by W. B. Yeats

    Print ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-6499-8

    eBook ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-6500-1

    This edition copyright © 2019. Digireads.com Publishing.

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

    Cover Image: a detail of a photograph of Rabindranath Tagore / Lebrecht Authors / Bridgeman Images.

    Please visit www.digireads.com

    CONTENTS

    Introduction

    Gitanjali

    I

    II

    III

    IV

    V

    VI

    VII

    VIII

    IX

    X

    XI

    XII

    XIII

    XIV

    XV

    XVI

    XVII

    XVIII

    XIX

    XX

    XXI

    XXII

    XXIII

    XXIV

    XXV

    XXVI

    XXVII

    XXVIII

    XXIX

    XXX

    XXXI

    XXXII

    XXXIII

    XXXIV

    XXXV

    XXXVI

    XXXVII

    XXXVIII

    XXXIX

    XL

    XLI

    XLII

    XLIII

    XLIV

    XLV

    XLVI

    XLVII

    XLVIII

    XLIX

    L

    LI

    LII

    LIII

    LIV

    LV

    LVI

    LVII

    LVIII

    LIX

    LX

    LXI

    LXII

    LXIII

    LXIV

    LXV

    LXVI

    LXVII

    LXVIII

    LXIX

    LXX

    LXXI

    LXXII

    LXXIII

    LXXIV

    LXXV

    LXXVI

    LXXVII

    LXXVIII

    LXXIX

    LXXX

    LXXXI

    LXXXII

    LXXXIII

    LXXXIV

    LXXXV

    LXXXVI

    LXXXVII

    LXXXVIII

    LXXXIX

    XC

    XCI

    XCII

    XCIII

    XCIV

    XCV

    XCVI

    XCVII

    XCVIII

    XCIX

    C

    CI

    CII

    CIII

    Biographical Afterword

    Introduction

    A few days ago I said to a distinguished Bengali doctor of medicine, ‘I know no German, yet if a translation of a German poet had moved me, I would go to the British Museum and find books in English that would tell me something of his life, and of the history of his thought. But though these prose translations from Rabindranath Tagore have stirred my blood as nothing has for years, I shall not know anything of his life, and of the movements of thought that have made them possible, if some Indian traveller will not tell me.’ It seemed to him natural that I should be moved, for he said, ‘I read Rabindranath every day, to read one line of his is to forget all the troubles of the world.’ I said, ‘An Englishman living in London in the reign of Richard the Second had he been shown translations from Petrarch or from Dante, would have found no books to answer his questions, but would have questioned some Florentine banker or Lombard merchant as I question you. For all I know, so abundant and simple is this poetry, the new renaissance has been born in your country and I shall never know of it except by hearsay.’ He answered, ‘We have other poets, but none that are his equal; we call this the epoch of Rabindranath. No poet seems to me as famous in Europe as he is among us. He is as great in music as in poetry, and his songs are sung from the west of India into Burma wherever Bengali is spoken. He was already famous at nineteen when he wrote his first novel; and plays when he was but little older, are still played in Calcutta. I so much admire the completeness of his life; when he was very young he wrote much of natural objects, he would sit all day in his garden; from his twenty-fifth year or so to his thirty-fifth perhaps, when he had a great sorrow, he wrote the most beautiful love poetry in our language’; and then he said with deep emotion, ‘words can never express what I owed at seventeen to his love poetry. After that his art grew deeper, it became religious and philosophical; all the inspiration of mankind are in his hymns. He is the first among our saints who has not refused to live, but has spoken out of Life itself, and that is why we give him our love.’ I may have changed his well-chosen words in my memory but not his thought. ‘A little while ago he was to read divine service in one of our churches—we of the Brahma Samaj use your word church in English—it was the largest in Calcutta and not only was it crowded, but the streets were all but impassable because of the people.’

    Other Indians came to see me and their reverence for this man sounded strange in our world, where we hide great and little things under the same veil of obvious comedy and half-serious depreciation. When we were making the cathedrals had we a like reverence for our great men? ‘Every morning at three—I know, for I have seen it’—one said to me, ‘he sits immovable in contemplation, and for two hours does not awake from his reverie upon the nature of God. His father, the Maha Rishi, would sometimes sit there all through the next day; once, upon a river, he fell into contemplation because of the beauty of the landscape, and

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1