Tagore Song : Shandhya holo go o ma, singer Hemanta , posted and translated by Ranu

 

I have copied the male and female voices to show how it sounds.

I found this song this morning, I had to listen to it a few times to figure out the lyrics. It’s a song that evokes a melancholic mood.

This is how it begins:

Oh mother it is evening

It’s evening hold me

In this deep darkness

Let  your tenderness

Drown and cool me

It’s evening mother

Take it back, take it back

Everything is lost somewhere

Let this scattered life

Gather in your darkness

It’s evening mother

I don’t want my life to be visible

Anywhere outside you

Let your night unite

My  life’s beam of light

Surround me and kiss me

Only you, only you

Take whatever is on my mind

Oh mother make it yours and

carry it away!

…………………………….. 🙂

 

 

 

 

(Patthika) Reader by Tagore Translation by ranu

English: Rabindranath Tagore ,Tamilndu,India

English: Rabindranath Tagore ,Tamilndu,India (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

(Patthika)  Rabindranath Tagore

The wind blows at troubled speed,

the sky is overcast,

the peacock calls.

I did not work,  did not change,

the day is over, my hair untied___

I read your words.

O my poet tho,

I have never known you,

still your message embeds

a hidden image in my mind.

Your words render cloud and shadow

in a melancholic tune,

that brings tears to my eyes.

My heart yearns to understand you.

When and where you wake,

whose absence distresses you__

who is your beloved!

You are Indra, your wife is Indrani

You have painted a picture of her

with your affection.

O my dear poet ,

although the rhythm beats in my heart

I am lifeless,  a statue

I know not why I feel this way.

The woman is forever beloved

your songs praise her__

without reason your heart is elated.

Even if I had not heard her name,

nor seen her once

there is no loss in that!

If one knows not your sweetheart

one knows her by your song.

O my dear poet,

the spring is far-off

yet the blood dances in my veins.

The one you know appears

in this strange place,

as I stand among these strangers.

Your garland came around my neck.

the flowers wet with rain…

On some rainy evening your beloved’s

braid wrapped round you

the scent like a dream.

And in my heart, past lives converge.

O my poet,

know you not the soft melody

in my arbour of creepers–

You sang a song of sadness

of things that occurred long ago…

Your brooding melody

flowing into a marvel of its own.