What delight is there in gazing at emptiness
missing the thrill of moving through the air
with those ecstatic notes of the distant song
floating from, and inviting to the other shore.
It is the moment to launch out my boat
and let go the lazy hours
of this shore to pass by.
The spring has done its flowering
and taken leave leaving me
with the burden of faded futile flowers
while I waited and loitered.
The waves have become clamorous
and in the shady lane on the bank
the yellow leaves flutter and fall.
Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 21
Henry Victor 25.09.2012
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