Gitanjali-80
I AM like a remnant of a cloud of
autumn uselessly roaming in the sky,
O my sun ever-glorious ! Thy touch
has not yet melted my vapour, making
me one with thy light, and thus I
count months and years separated
from thee.
If this be thy wish and if this be
thy play, then take this fleeting
emptiness of mine, paint it with
colours, gild it with gold, float it on
the wanton wind and spread it in
varied wonders.
And again when it shall be thy
wish to end this play at night, I shall
melt and vanish away in the dark, or
it may be in a smile of the white
morning, in a coolness of purity
transparent.