Religion
Fruit-Gathering 49: The pain was great when the strings were
Translated by Rabindranath Tagore (1916) · From Fruit-Gathering (1916)
The pain was great when the strings were being tuned, my Master!
Begin your music, and let me forget the pain; let me feel in beauty what you had in your mind through those pitiless days.
The waning night lingers at my doors, let her take her leave in songs.
Pour your heart into my life strings, my Master, in tunes that descend from your stars.
Cite this poem
MLA
Tagore, Rabindranath. “Fruit-Gathering 49: The pain was great when the strings were.” Translated by Rabindranath Tagore. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/tagore/562/.
Chicago
Tagore, Rabindranath. “Fruit-Gathering 49: The pain was great when the strings were.” Translated by Rabindranath Tagore. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/tagore/562/.
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