It is with great pleasure that we bring you this feature on Teresa Sebastián and her Poem and Poetry-In-Concert performance video dedicated to Tagore. Like countless many of us, Gurudeb Rabindranath Tagore provided calm and solace and direction in Teresa's younger darker days, and Teresa writes to us that Tagore probably saved her life, like he did of so many of us. Teresa wrote a poem with respect and gratitude to the great poet and humanist, Tagore. Teresa also writes in her letter to us that Tagore's writings about the fraternity between nations are now more necessary than never in the past, as we have, nowadays, a complete power of destruction, in this stupid, hyper-technological, egoist system, that is stealing all vitality from people and Nature. Teresa - well said, we cannot agree with you more!

Teresa Sebastián was born in Bilbao, Spain. She has been writing since she was a girl, and a winner of the "Premio Poesía de Primavera de la AAVV" award. Teresa has published "La Noche Incandescente" (Ed, Libertarias), and "Frágil" (Ed. Huerga & Fierro, Ed. ). She has performed in Círculo de Bellas Artes de Madrid and other important cultural centers.

Teresa lives in Madrid and is actively prepearing her new project "Poetry in Concert", a poetry festival in July in her city in "Veranos de la Villa", for the city council. She will give a recital concert in July 16 in Madrid with her band. Actually, Teresa is more interested in  recitals with music and images, than in publishing her work in books. Her present work, "Incandescente", is with J. Carlos Blancas (soundscape), one of the best electrónic musicians in Spain, and Javier Paxariño, a great jazz and new-age music composer, who played in the Fernando Miralles film, "El Jardinero Fiel",  with Alberto Iglesias music, candidate for Hollywood Oscar.

In the following video "Poesi­a en Concierto - Tagore" (Tagore Poem In Concert), Teresa Sebastian reads her own poem "Tagore" live with musicians J.C. Blancas on electronics/keyboards, X.Paixarino on the flute and Niraj Kumar on the Tabla.

Creative Commons license: Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Spain

TAGORE by TERESA SEBASTIAN: Poem in Spanish & English Translation

Washington Bangla Radio thanks Teresa for sending us the English translation of her poem "TAGORE" which you will find below the Spanish original:

En el patio hay una luz de menta
verdes son las hojas y los insectos
y el tiempo fumado y el té.

Música de hilos
ajorcas de la India sonando
tu alegría triste, Tagore.

Música de hilos
y las persianas azules tamizan los cuartos
la piedra húmeda  junto al rio
bañada en luz nocturna.

Barcas con fruta y cadáveres
las máquinas de la ciudad
y el recuerdo de las guerras de Asia
y de la paz de Asia
y los administradores británicos
y los elefantes morados en el polvo
y las ofrendas a un dios azul
y los patos salvajes en el diámetro del cielo
y el hijo pródigo que regresa cubierto de resina.

El sonido del bronce en los templos
y el martilleo de los herreros
y los periódicos ingleses
en los kioscos donde se bebe
y el tiempo que silba más allá.

La espigadora de aromas en cuclillas
los niños en los pupitres de de Santiniketán
y “el festival  de la siembra de árboles”
tras la gran deforestación.

Y cuando murmurabas en sánscrito
desesperado al contraluz de la ventana
por la pérdida del amado
semejante a la pérdida del país interior
soledad absoluta del cero
nautilo que contiene en su centro
un alfiler enquistado.

Con fieltro de sus guantes el poeta
absorbe ese manantial de pena
y la tarde celeste deja su ungüento.

Rabindranath,  mi India interior.

!Música en  tus  hijos de Londres!
y en tu historia como el sari de mil sangres
dejado caer en la escalera de piedra
que el río lava ferruginoso
y tu árbol  en el que tengo raíz
hojas, y oro mudo.
---------------------------------------------

TAGORE (ENGLISH TRANSLATION)

The humid stone by the river
Bathed in night light.

Boats with fruit and corpses
the heavy machines in  the city
and the remembrances from  the wars in Asia
and of the peace of Asia
And the British administrators
and the elephants covered  in dust and mud
and the offerings to the blue colored God
And the wild ducks in the sky
and the prodigal son who returns covered in resin.

The sound of the bells in the temples
and the hammering of the blacksmiths
and the English newspapers
In the kiosks where people take a sip
and the time that whistles beyond

The gleaner of aromas in squatting
the children in the desks of Shantiniketán
And "the festival of the sowing the seeds"
after the big deforestation.

And when you were murmuring in Sanskrit
desperately behind the window with the light on your face
because the loss of the loved ones
Similar to the loss of the inner self
absolute loneliness like the zero
nautilus that it contains in his center
A sealed off pin.

With felt of his gloves the poet
absorbs this spring of a sorrow
And the celestial evening leaves his salve.
Rabindranath, you are the India inside me

! Music in your British children!
And in your history like the sari having a thousand drops of blood
left to fall down the stairs of stone
That the river washes ferociously
and your tree in which I have my root
have golden leaves.