The Source

Sleep that swoops on baby’s eyes, the sparrow

says, comes from the kisses on baby’s eyes by two
timid but enchanting buds hanging in the fairy village
in the shades of the forest dimly lit with glow-worms.

Smile that sparkles on baby’s lips, the same bird

affirms, comes from the smile born in the dream
of a dew-washed morning as the young pale beam
of the crescent touched the vanishing autumn cloud.

Freshness soft and sweet bloom on baby’s limbs,

the little bird sings, is from the mother’s brooding
the silent and gentle mystery of love in her heart
when she was still a young girl, tender and fragrant.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 61

Henry Victor          23.12.2012