In the deep shadows of the rainy July,
with secret steps, thou walkest,
silent as night, eluding all watchers.
Today the morning has closed its eyes,
heedless of the insistent calls of the loud east wind,
and a thick veil has been drawn over the ever-wakeful blue sky.
The woodlands have hushed their songs,
and doors are all shut at every house.
Thou art the solitary wayfarer in this deserted street.
Oh my only friend, my best beloved,
the gates are open in my house-
let all my senses spread out
and touch this world at thy feet.
Like a rain-cloud of July hung low with its burden
of unshed showers let all my mind
their diverse strains into a single current
and flow to a sea of silence
in one salutation to thee.
Like a flock of homesick cranes
flying night and day back to their mountain nests
let all my life take its voyage
to its eternal home in one salutation to thee.
Images: Warwick Goble (1862- 1943)
Words: from Gitanjali, or Song Offerings, by Rabindranath Tagore (1861- 1941)