nparab's blog, page 1

Online nowNparab: Nilesh is a 33 year old single guy from Mumbai, MH, India.; Likes 794 pages, 3 videos, 411 photos • 383 fans • Received 146 reviews; Member since May 03, 2006

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Indian Art: Bamboo Stick III by Manab Banerjee: 6:35am 0 review arts •http://www.indiaartvillage.com/painti...

Unyielding by Rabindranath Tagore at Tagore Poetry: 6:23am 1 review poetry •http://www.tagorepoetry.com/sadpoems/...; Sad birds twittered sleeplessly, calling, calling lost companions.
Gone the right time for our union - low the moon while still you brooded,
Sunk in lonely pensiveness.

Who can understand another! Heart cannot restrain its passion.
I had hoped that some remaining, tear-soaked memories would sway you,
Stir your feet to lightsomeness.

Moon fell at the feet of morning, loosened from the night's fading necklace.
While you slept, O did my Vina lull you with its heartache?
Did you dream at least of happiness?

~ Rabindranath Tagore

Indian Art: Romancing with Stone II by Makhan Saha: 6:03am 0 review arts •http://www.indiaartvillage.com/painti...

Indian Art: Sisters by Monica Sen Saha: 6:03am 0 review arts •http://www.indiaartvillage.com/painti...

Indian Art: An old rugged boat amid serene nature by Amit John: 5:52am 0 review arts •http://www.indiaartvillage.com/painti...

She Dwelt Here by the Pool by Rabindranath Tagore at Tagore Poetry: 5:44am 1 review poetry •http://www.tagorepoetry.com/sadpoems/...; She Dwelt Here by the Pool

She dwelt here by the pool, with its landing-stairs in ruins.
Many an evening she had watched the moon made dizzy by the shaking of bamboo leaves,
and on many a rainy day the smell of the wet earth had come to her over the young shoots of rice.

Her pet name is known here among those date-palm groves, and in the courtyards
where girls sit and talk while stitching their winter quilts.
The water in this pool keeps in its depth the memory of her swimming limbs,
and her wet feet had left their marks, day after day, on the footpath leading to the village.

The women who come today with their vessels to the water have all seen her smile over simple jests,
and the old peasant, taking his bullocks to their bath, used to stop at her door every day to greet her.

Many a sailing-boat passes by this village; many a traveller takes rest beneath that banyan tree;
the ferry-boat crosses to yonder ford carrying crowds to the market;
but they never notice this spot by the village road,
near the pool with its ruined landing-stairs,
- where dwelt she whom I love.

~ Rabindranath Tagore