Text by Rabindranath Tagore
Lover's Gift 2
COME TO MY garden walk, my love. Pass by the fervid flowers that press themselves on your sight. Pass them by, stopping at some chance joy, that like a sudden wonder of sunset illumines, yet eludes.
For love's gift is shy, it never tells its name, it flits across the shade, spreading a shiver of joy along the dust. Overtake it or miss it for ever. But a gift that can be grasped is merely a frail flower, or a lamp with a flame that will flicker.
ONLY A PORTION of my gift is in this world, the rest of it is in my dreams.
You, who ever elude my touch, come there in secret silence, hiding your lamp.
I shall know you by the thrill in the darkness, by the whisper of the unseen worlds, by the breath of the unknown shore;-
I shall know you by the sudden delight of my heart melting into sadness of tears.
Lover's Gift 28
I DREAMT THAT she sat by my head, tenderly ruffling my hair with her fingers, playing the melody of her touch. I looked at her face and struggled with my tears, till the agony of unspoken words burst my sleep like a bubble.
I sat up and saw the glow of the milky way above my window, like a world of silence on fire, and I wondered if at this moment she had a dream that rhymed with mine.