The Gardener: 9- Rabindranath Tagore

When I go alone at night to my love-tryst, birds do not sing, the
wind does not stir, the houses on both sides of the street
stand silent.
It is my own anklets that grow loud at every step and I am


When I sit on my balcony and listen for his footsteps, leaves do
not rustle on the trees, and the water is still in the river
like the sword on the knees of a sentry fallen asleep.
It is my own heart that beats wildly—I do not know how to quiet


When my love comes and sits by my side, when my body trembles and
my eyelids droop, the night darkens, the wind blows out the
lamp, and the clouds draw veils over the stars.
It is the jewel at my own breast that shines and gives light. I
do not know how to hide it.

– Rabindranath Tagore

(कवितासंग्रहाच्या मुखपृष्ठाचं चित्र आंतरजालावरून साभार)


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