Let life be beautiful like summer flowers “Let life be beautiful like summer flowers and death like autumn leaves.” describes a kind of placid attitude which is pursued by Rabindranath Tagore, a Bengali polymath who has great impact on

literature and arts. Summer flowers are not only charming, but also short-lived. Now that we cannot keep young forever, we should cherish every moment in our lives.

Tagore won the 1913 Nobel Prize for Literature. As the most popular works, The Crescent moon and Stray Birds, in a way, shows the depth and height of Tagore’s thoughts. His poetry drew from traditional Vaisnava folk lyrics and was often deeply mystical.

“Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines! I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with these jasmines, these white jasmines. I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth; I have heard the liquid murmur of the river through the darkness of midnight; Autumn sunsets have come to me at the bend of a road in the lonely waste, like a bride raising her veil to accept her lover. Yet my memory is still sweet with the first white jasmines that I held in my hand when I was a child.

Many a glad day has come in my life, and I have laughed with

merrymakers on festival nights. On grey mornings of rain I have crooned many an idle song. I have worn round my neck the evening wreath of bakulas woven by the hand of love. Yet my heart is sweet with the memory of the first fresh jasmines that filled my hands when I was a child.” From the above poem, we can feel the existence of love and beauty. The readers are all affected emotionally by the perfect combination of lyrical and philosophizing. Bing Xin, a famous Chinese writer, once

evaluated Tagore’s poetry: His family is superior and he is well-educated from childhood. His works are full of emotions, with a gorgeous speech category which is more innocent, more joyous and more mysterious. After reading The Crescent moon and Stray Birds, I walk into Tagore’s mind and feel his passion, hope and creation.

 

第二篇：泰戈尔诗歌--生如夏花