WITH THE SONG I AM A SONG
The morning’s skies do shimmer, wistful, dank,
With glistening dews and bright;
The casuarinas on the riverbank
All glimmer in the light.
Within my breast they seem
To press and throng and teem:
So that I know full well
The universe does dwell
On the shoreless sea of dream
A lotus gay and bright.
This truth I know, at last,-
I am a voice out of the vast
Upsurging Voice and with the Song
A song, a live that’s linked along
With Live, a light that flaming rends
Dark meshes of the night.
R. Tagore
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment