The original My song has put off her adornments. She has no pride of dress and decoration. Ornaments would mar our union; they would come between thee and me; their jingling would drown thy whispers. My poet’s vanity dies in…
Monthly Archives: August 2013
Poem 6: Pluck this little flower
One thing I struggle with in this project is how much to “modernize” the language and to what extent to keep it a little, well, old-fashioned. One answer might be that these are two separate projects: if I were editing Gitanjali,…
thegitanjaliproject.com 