Gitanjali-21
I MUST launch out my boat. The
languid hours pass by on the
shore-Alas for me!
The spring has done its flowering
and taken leave. And now with the
burden of faded futile flowers I wait
and linger.
The waves have become
clamorous, and upon the bank in the
shady lane the yellow leaves flutter
and fall.
What emptiness do you gaze upon!
Do you not feel a thrill passing
through the air with the notes of the
far away song floating from the other
shore?