From Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore


On the day when the lotus
bloomed, alas, my mind was
straying, and I knew it not.  My
basket was empty and the flower
remained unheeded.
Only now and again a
sadness fell upon me, and I
started up from my dream and
felt a sweet trace of a strange
fragrance in the south wind.
That vague sweetness made
my heart ache with longing and it
seemed to me that it was the
eager breath of the summer
seeking for its completion.
I knew not then that it was
so near, that it was mine, and that
this perfect sweetness had
blossomed in the depth of my
own heart.

– Rabindranath Tagore

About James Steerforth

I am an author of poetry and fiction, translator and painter who loves to have fun with borrowed feathers.
This entry was posted in Enigma, India, Life, Literature, Poetry, Stellar poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to From Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore

  1. Pingback: Today « Steer Forth!

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