To wait and watch at the
wayside
where shadow chases light is
my delightand the rain comes down, pours
in the wake of the summer.
With tidings messengers from unknown
skies greet me and speed along the road
as my heart within is secretly glad
and the breath of the passing breeze is sweet.
Dawn to dusk I sit here before my door
and I know that suddenly the blissful moment
will arrive and until then I smile and sing alone
breathing air filled with the perfume of promise.
Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 44
Henry Victor 01.01.2013
No comments:
Post a Comment