“Stray birds” by Rabindranath Tagore
IF you shed tears when you miss the sun, you also miss the stars.
THE sands in your way beg for your song and your movement, dancing water. Will you carry the burden of their lameness?
HER wistful face haunts my dreams like the rain at night.
ONCE we dreamt that we were strangers.
We wake up to find that we were dear to each other.
SORROW is hushed into peace in my heart like the evening among the silent trees.
SOME unseen fingers, like idle breeze, are playing upon my heart the music of the ripples.
“WHAT language is thine, O sea?”
“The language of eternal question.”
“What language is thy answer, O sky?
“The language of eternal silence.”
[translated from Bengali to English by the author]
New York: The Macmillan Company, 1916
[Frontispiece in color by Willy Pogány]