Gitanjali 22
R
Rabindranath Tagore
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In the deep shadows of the rainy July, with secret steps, thou walkest, silent as night, eluding all watchers.
To-day 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—do not pass by like a dream.
Bu metin şairin özgün dilinde (bn) değil, bir çeviridir.
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
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