Thy sunbeam comes upon this earth of mine with arms outstretched and stands at my door the livelong day to carry back to thy feet clouds made of my tears and sighs and songs.
With fond delight thou wrappest about thy starry breast that mantle of misty cloud, turning it into numberless shapes and folds and colouring it with hues everchanging.
It is so light and so fleeting, tender and tearful and dark, that is why thou lovest it, O thou spotless and serene. And that is why it may cover thy awful white light with its pathetic shadows.
From Gitanjali, Rabindranath Tagore, 1913
The Angel Standing in the Sun, William Turner, 1846
2 comments:
Darlin', did you know that the American composer John Alden Carpenter, set Gitanjali to music, as a song cycle ?
It is a very beautiful thing; I used to sing it.
Love Tagore.
Love YOU , more.
Love you, too, Chaya--and now I'm off to seek out the Carpenter music. I wish I could hear you sing it.
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