I thought that I should ask thee | Song Offerings, Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore

I thought that I should ask thee- is a poem in the Rabindranath Tagore’s poetry collection “Song Offerings” or “Gitanjali” in Bengali. Geetanjali is a remarkable book of verses composed by Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941), which earned him the Nobel Prize.

 

I thought that I should ask thee | Song Offerings, Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore
Rabindranath Tagore

 

It was written originally in Bangla during 1908-1909 and later its English version in prose was published under the title ‘The Song offerings’. It was the first English anthology of Rabindranath published in late 1912 by the India Society of London. On 10 November of the following Year (1913), Rabindranath Tagore was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature for the book Geetanjali.

This recognition introduced Rabindranath worldwide as an exponent of unique poetic talent. Famous Irish poet W B Yeats wrote the introduction of the English version of Geetanjali. Besides, a pencil sketch of the poet drawn by Rothenstain was published in the book. Rabindranath dedicated Geetanjali to WB Yeats.

Serial Number of the song : 52

I thought that I should ask thee | Song Offerings, Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore
Rabindranath Tagore

I thought that I should ask thee.

I THOUGHT I should ask of thee but I dared not the rose wreath thou hadst on thy neck.

Thus I waited for the morning, when thou didst depart, to find a few fragments on the bed. And like a beggar I searched in the dawn only for a stray petal or two.

Ah me, what is it I find? What token left of thy love? It is no flower, no spices, no vase of perfumed water.

It is thy mighty sword, flashing as a flame, heavy as a bolt of thunder.

The young light of morning comes through the window and spreads itself upon thy bed.

The morning bird twitters and asks, ‘Woman, what hast thou got?’ No, it is no flower, nor spices, nor vase of perfumed waterit is thy dreadful sword.

I sit and muse in wonder, what gift is this of thine.

I can find no place where to hide it. I am ashamed to wear it, frail as I am, and it hurts me when I press it to my bosom.

Yet shall I bear in my heart this honour of the burden of pain, this gift of thine.

From now there shall be no fear left for me in this world, and thou shalt be victorious in all my strife.

Thou hast left death for my companion and I shall crown him with my life.

Thy sword is with me to cut asunder my bonds, and there shall be no fear left for me in the world.

From now I leave off all petty decorations. Lord of my heart, no more shall there be for me waiting and weeping in corners, no more coyness and sweetness of demeanour.

Thou hast given me thy sword for adornment. No more doll’s decorations for me!

 

https://amarrabindranath.com/%e0%a6%a6%e0%a7%81%e0%a6%b0%e0%a6%be%e0%a6%95%e0%a6%be%e0%a6%99%e0%a7%8d%e0%a6%95%e0%a7%8d%e0%a6%b7%e0%a6%be-durakhankka-%e0%a6%95%e0%a6%ac%e0%a6%bf%e0%a6%a4%e0%a6%be-%e0%a6%b0%e0%a6%ac%e0%a7%80/

Read more:

Leave a Comment