The Gardener 46
You left me and went on your way.I thought I should mourn for you and set your solitary image in myheart wrought in a golden song.But ah, my evil fortune, time is short.
Youth wanes year after year; the spring days are fugitive; thefrail flowers die for nothing, and the wise man warns me that lifeis but a dew-drop on the lotus leaf.Should I neglect all this to gaze after one who has turned her back on me?That would be rude and foolish, for time is short.
Then, come, my rainy nights with pattering feet; smile, my goldenautumn; come, careless April, scattering your kisses abroad.You come, and you, and you also!My loves, you know we are mortals. Is it wise to break one's heartfor the one who takes her heart away? For time is short.
It is sweet to sit in a corner to muse and write in rhymes thatyou are all my world.It is heroic to hug one's sorrow and determine not to be consoled.But a fresh face peeps across my door and raises its eyes to my eyes.I cannot but wipe away my tears and change the tune of my song.For time is short.
Words in this poem
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Gardener 46 is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Gardener, translated by the author from the original Bengali (Macmillan, London and New York, 1913; this text the 1915 printing), Project Gutenberg ebook #6686; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Rabindranath Tagore, The Gardener 46, in The Gardener (1913), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #6686, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/tagore-gardener/poem-46.html, id L27682.
About this section
The Gardener 46 is prose, printed in 4 paragraphs. It is part of the edition and is kept for reading, but nothing here is measured: the line breaks are the printer's, so no metre, rhyme scheme or scansion is stated.
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