Monday, August 1

….something to say to her.

Am Lone again...
I thought I had something to say to her when our
       eyes met in the road.
       But she passed away, and it rocks day and night
       like an idle boat on every wave of the hours-
       the thing that I had to say to her.

... lone again...

It seems to sail in the autumn clouds in an endless
       and to bloom into evening flowers
       seeking its lost words in the sunset.

... and lone again. 

It twinkles like fireflies in my heat to find its own
       in the dust of despair-
       the thing that I had to say to her. 

                                                                 -poems from Tagore

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