Song Offerings -- XIII
The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day.
I have spent my days
in stringing and in unstringing my instrument.
The time has not come true,
the words have not been rightly set;
only there is the agony of wishing in my heart.
The blossom has not opened;
only the wind is sighing by.
I have not seen his face, nor have I listened to his voice;
only I have heard his gentle footsteps
from the road before my house.
The livelong day has passed
in spreading his seat on the floor;
but the lamp has not been lit
and I cannot ask him into my house.
I live in the hope of meeting with him;
but this meeting is not yet.
Rabindranath Tagore
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