Whey are those tears in your eyes, my child?
How horrid of them to be always scolding you for nothing!
You have stained your fingers and face with ink while writing-
is that why they call you dirty?
O, fie! Would they dare to call the full moon dirty because
it has smudged its face with ink?
For every little trifle they blame you, my child. They are
ready to find fault for nothing.
You tore your clothes while playing-is that why they call you
O, fie! What would they call an autumn morning that smiles
through its ragged clouds?
Take no heed of what they say to you, my child.
They make a long list of your misdeeds.
Everybody knows how you love sweet things-is that why they
call you greedy?
O, fie! What then would they call us who love you?
Rabindranath Tagore's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Defamation by Rabindranath Tagore )
Did you read them?
- If ever I know, hasmukh amathalal
- Locked, The Princess is
- Simple enough, hasmukh amathalal
- What is the End of Sufferingf? When? ?, Mr. Nobody
- Coin, dr.k.g.balakrishnan kandangath
- Peripeteia Personified, michael walkerjohn
- After long, tedious work..., Lev Brekhman
- Satisfection, Tadasha Tripathy
- Decline and fall, Lev Brekhman
- Happiness, Lev Brekhman
Poem of the Day
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edgar Albert Guest
(20 August 1881 - 5 August 1959)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)