When birds sing no more announcing
the day is done and the wind flagged
tired, then draw the cloak
of darkness thick on me
even as you wrapped the earth
with the coverlet of sleep
and tenderly closed at dusk
the petals of the drooping lotus.
When the traveler’s sack of provisions
is empty before the voyage ends
and his garment torn and dust-loaded
while his strength is exhausted
remove shame and poverty
renewing his life like a flower
under the cover of your kindly night
that he continues with the dawn of light.
Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 24
Henry Victor 01.10.2012
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