It sparkles for a moment, then goes.
It does not tell its name; its tune
Stops us in our tracks, its dance disappears
At the toss of an anklet.
I know no way to it --
No hand, nor word can reach it.
Friend, whatever you take of it,
On your own,
Without asking, without knowing, let that
Be yours. ..."
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| the poet's signature (from Wikipedia) |
More about this poet here.
Translated from the Bengali by William Radice
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