Oh my death, you are the final feat
of my life, come hence, and whisper to me
for I keep watching for you daily, enduring
for your sake the joys and pains of my life.
All that I am, all that I have, all that I hope
and all my love always flowed towards you
in the depth of secrecy, and with one final
glance from you forever my life will be yours.
The flowers are now woven and the garland
is ready for the bridegroom, and after the wedding
the bride shall leave her home to meet you,
her master, alone in the solitude of the night.
Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 91
Henry Victor 06.11.2012
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