The sky groans like one in despair
and I have no sleep tonight.
Are you out on this stormy night
on your journey to me, my friend?
Again and again I open my door
and look out on the darkness
but I can see nothing before me
and wonder where lies your path.
By what hazy shore of the ink-black river
by what far edge of the frowning forest
through what mazy depth of gloom
do you thread your path to come to me?
Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 23
Henry Victor 29.09.2012
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