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I feel that once upon
a time I was at one with the rest of the earth, that grass grew green
upon me, that the autumn sun fell on me and under its rays the warm
scent of youth wafted from every pore of my far-flung evergreen body.
As my waters and mountains lay spread out through every land, dumbly
waking up to the radiance of a cloudless sky, an elixir of life and joy
was inarticulately secreted from the immensity of my being. So it is
that my feelings seem to be those of our ancient planet, ever germinant
and florescent, shuddering with sun-kissed delight. The current of my
consciousness streams through each blade of grass, each sucking root,
each sappy vein, and breaks out in the waxing fields of corn and in the
rustling leaves of the palms.
I am impelled to give vent to this sense
of having ties of blood and affection with the earth. But I know most
people will not understand me and think my ideas distinctly queer.
Quoted
in:
Krishna Dutta & Andrew Robinson.
Rabindraneth
Tagore. The
Myriad Minded Man( Bloomsbury, 1995).
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