Gitanjali-26
HE came and sat by my side but I
woke not. What a cursed sleep it was,
O miserable me!
He came when the night was still;
he had his harp in his hands, and my
dreams became resonant with its
melodies.
Alas, why are my nights all thus
lost? Ah, why do I ever miss his sight
whose breath touches my sleep?