The Gardener | Page 6

Rabindranath Tagore
lampless room from the one open window
to the other, and disappears in the night.
You are hidden as a star
behind the hills, and I am a passer-by upon the road.
But why did you
stop for a moment and glance at my face through your veil while you
walked by the riverside path with the full pitcher upon your hip?
20
Day after day he comes and goes away.
Go, and give him a flower
from my hair, my friend.
If he asks who was it that sent it, I entreat
you do not tell him my name--for he only comes and goes away.
He sits on the dust under the tree.
Spread there a seat with flowers
and leaves, my friend.
His eyes are sad, and they bring sadness to my
heart.
He does not speak what he has in mind; he only comes and
goes away.
21

Why did he choose to come to my door, the wandering youth, when the
day dawned?
As I come in and out I pass by him every time, and my
eyes are caught by his face.
I know not if I should speak to him or
keep silent. Why did he choose to come to my door?
The cloudy nights in July are dark; the sky is soft blue in the autumn;
the spring days are restless with the south wind. He weaves his songs
with fresh tunes every time.
I turn from my work and my eyes fill
with the mist. Why did he choose to come to my door?
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When she passed by me with quick steps, the end of her skirt touched
me.
From the unknown island of a heart came a sudden warm breath
of spring.
A flutter of a flitting touch brushed me and vanished in a

moment, like a torn flower petal blown in the breeze.
It fell upon my
heart like a sigh of her body and whisper of her heart.
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Why do you sit there and jingle your bracelets in mere idle sport?
Fill
your pitcher. It is time for you to come home.
Why do you stir the water with your hands and fitfully glance at the
road for some one in mere idle sport?
Fill your pitcher and come
home.
The morning hours pass by--the dark waters flows on.
The waves are
laughing and whispering to each other in mere idle sport.
The wandering clouds have gathered at the edge of the sky on yonder
rise of the land.
They linger and look at your face and smile in mere
idle sport. Fill your pitcher and come home.
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Do not keep to yourself the secret of your heart, my friend! Say it to me,

only to me, in secret.
You who smile so gently, softly whisper, my
heart will hear it, not my ears.
The night is deep, the house is silent, the birds' nests are shrouded with
sleep.
Speak to me through hesitating tears, through faltering smiles,
through sweet shame and pain, the secret of your heart!
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"Come to us, youth, tell us truly why there is madness in your eyes?"

"I know not what wine of wild poppy I have drunk, that there is this
madness in my eyes."
"Ah, shame!"
"Well, some are wise and some
foolish, some are watchful and some careless. There are eyes that smile
and eyes that weep--and madness is in my eyes."
"Youth, why do you stand so still under the shadow of the tree?" "My
feet are languid with the burden of my heart, and I stand still in the
shadow."
"Ah, shame!"
"Well, some march on their way and some
linger, some are free and some are fettered--and my feet are languid
with the burden of my heart."
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"What comes from your willing hands I take. I beg for nothing more."

"Yes, yes, I know you, modest mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."
"If there be a stray flower for me I will wear it in my heart." "But if
there be thorns?"
"I will endure them."
"Yes, yes, I know you,
modest mendicant, you ask for all that one has."
"If but once you should raise your loving eyes to my face it would
make my life sweet beyond death."
"But if there by only cruel
glances?"
"I will keep them piercing my heart."
"Yes, yes, I know
you, modest mendicant, you ask for all that one has."
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"Trust love even if it brings sorrow. Do not close up your heart."
"Ah
no, my friend, your words are dark, I cannot understand them."
"The heart is only for giving away with a tear and a song, my love."

"Ah no, my friend, your words are dark, I cannot understand them."
"Pleasure is frail like a dewdrop, while it laughs it dies. But sorrow is
strong and abiding. Let sorrowful love wake in your eyes."
"Ah no,
my friend, your words are dark, I cannot understand them."
"The
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