Finally available, a high quality book of the original classic edition of Gitanjali.
This is a new and freshly published edition of this culturally important work by Rabindranath Tagore, which is now, at last, again available to you.
Enjoy this classic work today. These selected paragraphs distill the contents and give you a quick look inside Gitanjali:
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.
...These verses will not lie in little well-printed books upon ladies tables, who turn the pages with indolent hands that they may sigh over a life without meaning, which is yet all they can know of life, or be carried by students at the university to be laid aside when the work of life begins, but, as the generations pass, travellers will hum them on the highway and men rowing upon the rivers.
... A whole people, a whole civilization, immeasurably strange to us, seems to have been taken up into this imagination; and yet we are not moved because of its strangeness, but because we have met our own image, as though we had walked in Rossettis willow wood, or heard, perhaps for the first time in literature, our voice as in a dream.
...At another time, remembering how his life had once a different shape, he will say, Many an hour I have spent in the strife of the good and the evil, but now it is the pleasure of my playmate of the empty days to draw my heart on to him; and I know not why this sudden call to what useless inconsequence.
...I sit on the grass and gaze upon the sky and dream of the sudden splendour of thy coming-all the lights ablaze, golden pennons flying over thy car, and they at the roadside standing agape, when they see thee come down from thy seat to raise me from the dust, and set at thy side this ragged beggar girl a-tremble with shame and pride, like a creeper in a summer breeze.
