I am here to read you my poems, and in your hall
I have a corner seat, and in your world
I have no work to do, and my useless life breaks
into rhyme and rhythm without a purpose!
For your silent worship in the dark temple of midnight
command me to stand before you to read a poem
and honour me demanding my presence in the morning
when the golden harp is tuned.
Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 15
Henry Victor 05.01.2013
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