What is anxiety playmate?

What is anxiety playmate? Playmate, what is agony?

You all say day and night love, loveTell me, playmate, what is love! Is it only torment?
It is only shedding tears? Is that only sorrows breathing?
Why then in what expectation of joy
People hopefully embrace such sorrow?
In my eyes all is handsome,
All fresh, all spotless, blue sky, darkgreen wood
Liberal moonlight, soft flower-every thing like me.
They only smile, only sing, wish to die after a sportive gameknows no pain, knows no crying, above all kinds of agony.
Flowers laugh while they get shed, moonlight smilingly disappears,
In the sea of light the star, all smiles, does his form abandon.
Who is happy like me? Come playmate, come near to meThe joyous song of a happy heart will feed your mind with solace.
If everyday you cry, why not laugh for a single dayForget all sadness for at least a day, let all of us sing together.

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What do you mean by 'Thought', my dear.
What do you mean by 'Pain' either.
What is that you yell 'Love' for,
What the word 'Love' means,
Is it saturated with pain?
Is that synonymous with tears or sigh of sufferings?

It is surely a wonder, why it fascinates people.

To my eyes everything is pleasing.
All are youthful, all are free from filth.
Blue sky, green parks, elaborate moonlight, tender blossoms
All alike myself.
They laugh and sing all the time,
Face certain death delightfully smiling.
They know not sobs, neither fascinated to pains.
Flowers fall apart giggling, moonlight vanish while smiling,
Stars in the sky go out of vision in the ocean of light.
Who is happier than me
Come O Darling, sooth your ears
With the blissful songs of a happy person.
You should be able to smile for a while amid routine sufferings.
Let us all sing for a single day ignoring the melancholy.
Translated by Anjan Ganguly
What are feelings, my friend, what is pain?
And what is this love, that you talk of day and night?
My friend, is love nothing else but all pain?
Is it only tears and a breath of sorrow?
Why does everyone aspire for such sorrow?
For me, everything is beautiful, everything is new and pure The blue of the sky, the green of the forest,
Bright moonlight, delicate flowers all appeal to me.
They only sing and smile,
And are prepared to die singing and laughing.
They know not sorrow nor sobs nor pain of longing.
Smiling the flower wilts and moonlight fades.
Who is happy like me?
Come friend, come to me,
To console your soul listen to a happy song of a happy heart.
If you laugh not for a day and cry everyday,
Forgetting sorrow for a day, sing along my songs.

Friend, what do you call a worry

Friend, what do you call a suffering
You all sing ballads of love day and night
Friend, what do you call love
Is it always suffering, Is is always tears Is it always sigh of pain
Then why people leave happiness for pain
For my eyes, everything is beautiful, everything new, everything clean and clear
As flawlessly blue sky, as a Green garden, as a detailed prose, as a soft flower
All of them laughs and sings like me
Like me they want to die laughing and playing
They do not know pain or cry
They do not know the desired suffering
Flowers fall from the trees smiling, Moonlight fades smiling
Stars leave the galaxy smiling
No one is as happy like me, so friends come to me
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Your hearts will be happy hearing the happy songs sung by my happy heart
Everyday you cry, for once come and laugh
Come for a day without sorrow and we will sing
Why to worry
Friend, why will we suffer
You all sing ballads of love day and night
Friend, what do you call love
It is not always painful...
A-translation-and-interpre-by-Monish-Chatterjee-120706-93

A translation and interpretation of

Rabindranath Tagore's poem, Africa
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[During his illustrious lifetime, Rabindranath Tagore traveled extensively around the world,
generating inspiration and veneration in most destinations as the emissary of the East and of a
deeply futuristic universalist philosophy. An assessment of the intellectuals and cultural icons of
the world that Tagore encountered, interacted with, and influenced, is both astonishing and
indeed still waiting to be adequately evaluated. His exchanges with Einstein, Wells, Rolland,
Gide, Freud, Durant, Yeats, Rothenstein, Andrews, Noguchi, Gandhi, Radhakrishnan, Nehru,
Bose and numerous others are well documented.
Tagore's literary works and public life centered around rejoicing in, and celebrating everything
unique and artistic in human culture. In the grandest sense, he did not see one culture (East,
West, Middle-East, or Latin America) as necessarily inferior or lesser than another. He was
endlessly fascinated by all lofty pursuits of the human mind, no matter their points of origin. As
much as he participated in India's freedom movement against British imperial rule, and served as
the nation's greatest inspirational voice through his lectures, teachings, literary works, and of
course, his greatest forte, poetry and musical compositions, Tagore empathized as well as
identified with the cause of freedom and the struggle against oppression and violence
everywhere in the world. In Iran, where he was received and feted by the Shah, he spoke in
highly reverential terms about the works of Hafiz (see URL:
http://www.ibna.ir/vdccexqsp2bqsx8.-ya2.html ), Omar Khayyam and other Persian poets and
philosophers. In Turkey, he developed special bonds with Kemal Ataturk and expressed
favorable views of the latter's efforts at forging a secular republic in the Muslim world. I have
read that Ataturk sent Tagore an entire collection of books (probably of Turkish origin) for the
library at Tagore's newly-founded Visva Bharati University in Bengal (see, for instance, URL:
http://www.hindu.com/2003/09/19/stories/2003091903841100.htm ).
3

So great was Tagore's influence upon the literary and even political firmament during his
lifetime, that more than once regimes with dictatorial leanings attempted to woo the great
Eastern ambassador in the hopes of receiving positive endorsements from him. The list of such
questionable world leaders included Mussolini (whose efforts did not succeed; see the essay,
URL: http://www.parabaas.com/rabindranath/articles/pKalyan.html ) and Stalin. Tagore visited
Russia during the early years of the Stalinist regime. Given Tagore's natural leanings towards
national upliftment from the grassroots, and the need to address poverty, hunger, illiteracy and
mortality among the poor in the world, he was initially much impressed by what he perceived
and witnessed as efforts to create an egalitarian society that was based on sharing, equity,
society's obligation towards the downtrodden, and a national culture devoid of pomp and muscleflexing. His early Russian tour resulted in the relatively favorable Letters from Russia.
Doubtless, the Stalinist purges, the Gulag and associated repressions would greatly disappoint
Tagore later on. As for the United States, which Tagore visited at least four times, it is safe to
say that he was consistently unimpressed by its cultural life, and much less its history of slavery,
racism and propensity towards self-promotion. He found America's crass commercialism
distasteful (and in this regard, Tagore merely reflected what Henry David Thoreau had felt and
expressed many decades earlier), and once wrote that "America is mad about sex." I am
tempted to think that Tagore had not seen the worst.
In the Americas, Tagore left a far stronger and more favorable legacy in the Southern continentspecifically Argentina (where his admirers included Victoria Ocampo), Chile (where a young
Pablo Neruda was notably influenced by Tagore's romantic poetry), Brazil (where the poet
Cecilia Meireles translated Tagore's works into Portuguese) and elsewhere.
In the context of Indian history itself, Tagore identified with the struggles and heroic actions of
people from different regions of India. Of particular note is his magnificent poem (Bandi BirThe Valiant Prisoner, 1899. See URL: http://sikhinstitute.org/jan_2009/2-poem.htm ) about
the sacrifice of the Sikh hero, Banda Singh Bahadur, whose body was ripped apart live using redhot tongs by imperial orders, even after the valiant fighter had been forced to plunge a knife into
his own young son's chest while uttering Hail to Guruji! during the Sikh resistance against
Mughal incursions into their dominion. This poem, I have found, is recounted by Sikhs to this
day, including in special mentions online at websites dedicated to Sikh history. Thus, as with
the poem dedicated to the great Maratha hero, Shivaji (Shivaji Utsab- Celebrating Shivaji, 1904.
See URL: http://shivajiutsav.blogspot.com/2007/05/shivaji-utsav-rabindranath-tagore.html ),
the Bard of Bengal extended hands of timeless friendship with virtually all regions of India. His
travelogues and commentaries of cultural celebration included Travels in Persia, Travels in
Japan, and of course Letters from Russia, as mentioned. It therefore should come as no surprise
that Tagore would also hold out sympathy and a deeper understanding of Africa- one of the most
exploited continents in the world. His poem dedicated to Africa captures the plight and anguish
of that continent rather well.
I present below Rabindranath Tagore's seminal poem on Africa, and append my commentary on
the cultural and poetic significance of different sections of the poem, and its strident
condemnation of colonialism, imperial brutality and racism- here applied to the ravaging of
Africa by imperial Europe, but applicable universally. Monish Chatterjee ]

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