gitanjali

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.