Poems of Rabindranath Tagore

thou hast risen late
my crescent moon
but my night bird is still awake
to greet thee

darkness is the veiled bride
silently waiting for the errant light
to return to her bosom

trees are the earth’s endless effort to speak
to the listening heaven;
the burden of self is lightened
when I laugh at myself

the weak can appear terrible
because they try furiously
to appear strong

the wind of heaven blows;
the anchor desperately clutches the mud
and my boat is beating its breast
against the chain

the spirit of death is one
the spirit of life is many—
when god is dead religion becomes one

the blue of the sky longs for the earth’s green;
the wind between them sighs;
day’s pain muffled by its own glare
burns among stars in the night

the stars crowd round the virgin night
in silent awe at her loneliness
that can never be touched

the cloud gives all its gold
to the departing sun
and greets the rising moon
with only a pale smile

Rabindranath Tagore (1928)