by Rabindranath Tagore
My dearest friend, for your tryst
You have chosen this stormy night
The sky is hopelessly crying
I have no sleep in my eyes
Opening my door
Again and again I am looking outside
I see nothing
My mind is full of worries
Where runs your way
Is it along the bank of the river
Or along the verge of the deep dark forest?
And in this darkness
Where are you crossing the stream?
Last updated January 14, 2019