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Tagore, Rabindranath, 1861-1941

"Chitra, a play in one act"



Enter MADANA and VASANTA.
Ah, god of love, what fearful flame is this with which thou hast
enveloped me! I burn, and I burn whatever I touch.

Madana
I desire to know what happened last night.

Chitra
At evening I lay down on a grassy bed strewn with the petals of
spring flowers, and recollected the wonderful praise of my beauty
I had heard from Arjuna;--drinking drop by drop the honey that I
had stored during the long day. The history of my past life like
that of my former existences was forgotten. I felt like a
flower, which has but a few fleeting hours to listen to all the
humming flatteries and whispered murmurs of the woodlands and
then must lower its eyes from the Sky, bend its head and at a
breath give itself up to the dust without a cry, thus ending the
short story of a perfect moment that has neither past nor future.

Vasanta
A limitless life of glory can bloom and spend itself in a
morning.

Madana
Like an endless meaning in the narrow span of a song.


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