Book: Stray Birds
Author: Rabindranath Tagore

Stray Birds By Rabindranath Tagore

Format: Global Grey free PDF, epub, Kindle ebook
Pages (PDF): 35
Publication Date: 1916

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320 short poems by Rabindranath Tagore. These poems are beautiful, thought provoking, and somewhat reminiscent of Haiku. Known mostly for his poetry, the author also wrote novels, essays, short stories, travelogues, dramas, and thousands of songs. Stray Birds are short poems, short aphorisms which embody his love of nature and love of simplicity.

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Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away. And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh.

O troupe of little vagrants of the world, leave your footprints in my words.

The world puts off its mask of vastness to its lover. It becomes small as one song, as one kiss of the eternal.

It is the tears of the earth that keep her smiles in bloom.

The mighty desert is burning for the love of a blade of grass who shakes her head and laughs and flies away.

6 If you shed tears when you miss the sun, you also miss the stars.

The sands in your way beg for your song and your movement, dancing water. Will you carry the burden of their lameness?

Her wistful face haunts my dreams like the rain at night.

Once we dreamt that we were strangers. We wake up to find that we were dear to each other.

Sorrow is hushed into peace in my heart like the evening among the silent trees.

Some unseen fingers, like idle breeze, are playing upon my heart the music of the ripples.

"What language is thine, O sea?"
"The language of eternal question."
"What language is thy answer, O sky?
"The language of eternal silence."

Listen, my heart, to the whispers of the world with which it makes love to you.

The mystery of creation is like the darkness of night--it is great. Delusions of knowledge are like the fog of the morning.

Do not seat your love upon a precipice because it is high.

I sit at my window this morning where the world like a passer-by stops for a moment, nods to me and goes.

These little thoughts are the rustle of leaves; they have their whisper of joy in my mind.