<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=479916" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Fireflies</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">My fancies are fireflies, — <br>Specks of living light<br>twinkling in the dark.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">he voice of wayside pansies,<br>that do not attract the careless glance,<br>murmurs in these desultory lines.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the drowsy dark caves of the mind<br>dreams build their nest with fragments<br>dropped from day's caravan.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Spring scatters the petals of flowers<br>that are not for the fruits of the future,<br>but for the moment's whim.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Joy freed from the bond of earth's slumber<br>rushes into numberless leaves,<br>and dances in the air for a day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My words that are slight<br>my lightly dance upon time's waves<br>when my works havy with import have gone down.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mind's underground moths<br>grow filmy wings<br>and take a farewell flight<br>in the sunset sky.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The butterfly counts not months but moments,<br>and has time enough.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My thoughts, like spark, ride on winged surprises,<br>carrying a single laughter.<br>The tree gazes in love at its own beautiful shadow<br>which yet it never can grasp.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let my love, like sunlight, surround you<br>and yet give you illumined freedom.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Days are coloured vbubbles<br>that float upon the surface of fathomless night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My offerings are too timid to claim your remembrance,<br>and therefore you may remember them.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Leave out my name from the gift<br>if it be a burden,<br>but keep my song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">April, like a child,<br>writes hieroglyphs on dust with flowers,<br>wipes them away and forgets.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Memory, the priestess,<br>kills the present<br>and offers its heart to the shrine of the dead past.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From the solemn gloom of the temple<br>children run out to sit in the dust,<br>God watches them play<br>and forgets the priest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My mind starts up at some flash<br>on the flow of its thoughts<br>like a brook at a sudden liquid note of its own<br>that is never repeated.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the mountain, stillness surges up<br>to explore its own height;<br>in the lake, movement stands still<br>to contemplate its own depth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The departing night's one kiss<br>on the closed eyes of morning<br>glows in the star of dawn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Maiden, thy beauty is like a fruit<br>which is yet to mature,<br>tense with an unyielding secret.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sorrow that has lost its memory<br>is like the dumb dark hours<br>that have no bird songs<br>but only the cricket's chirp.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bigotry tries to keep turth safe in its hand<br>with a grip that kills it.<br>Wishing to hearten a timid lamp<br>great night lights all her stars.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though he holds in his arms the earth-bride,<br>the sky is ever immensely away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">God seeks comrades and claims love,<br>the Devil seeks slaves and claims obedience.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The soil in return for her service<br>keeps the tree tied to her,<br>the sky asks nothing and leaves it free.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Jewel-like immortal<br>does not boast of its length of years<br>but of the scintillating point of its moment.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The child ever dwells in the mystery of ageless time,<br>unobscured by the dust of history.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alight laughter in the steps of creation<br>carries it swiftly across time.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One who was distant came near to me in the morning,<br>and still nearer when taken away by night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">White and pink oleanders meet<br>and make merry in different dialects.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When peace is active swepping its dirt, it is storm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The lake lies low by the hill,<br>a tearful entreaty of love<br>at the foot of the inflexible.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There smiles the Divine Child<br>among his playthings of unmeaning clouds<br>and ephemeral lights and shadows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The breeze whispers to the lotus,<br>'What is thy secret?'<br>'It is myself,' says the lotus,<br>'Steal it and I disappear!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The freedom of the storm and the bondage of the stem<br>join hands in the dance of swaying branches.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The jasmine's lisping of love to the sun is her flowers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The tyrant claims freedom to kill freedom<br>and yet to keep it for himself.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Gods, tired of their paradise, envy man.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Clouds are hills in vapour,<br>hills are clouds in stone, —<br>a phantasy in time's dream.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">While God waits for His temple to be built of love,<br>men bring stones.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I touch God in my song<br>as the hill touches the far-away sea<br>with its waterfall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Light finds her treasure of colours<br>through the antagonism of clouds.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My heart to-day smiles at its past night of tears<br>like a wet tree glistening in the sun <br>after the rain is over.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I have thanked the trees that have made my life fruitflul,<br>but have failed to remember the grass<br>that has ever kept it green.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The one without second is emptiness,<br>the other one makes it true.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Life's errors cry for the merciful beauty<br>that can modulate their isolation<br>into a harmony with the whole.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They expect thanks for the banished nest<br>because their cage is shapely and secure.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In love I pay my endless debt to thee<br>for what thou art.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The pond sends up its lyrics from its dark in lilies,<br>and the sun says, they are good.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Your calumny against the great is impious,<br>it hurts yourself;<br>against the small it is mean,<br>for it hurts the victim.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The first flower that blossomed on this earth<br>was an invitation to the unborn song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dawn—the many-coloured flower—fades,<br>and then the simple light-fruit,<br>the sun appears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The muscle that has a doubt if its wisdom<br>throttles the voice that would cry.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The wind tries to take the flame by storm <br>only to blow it out.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Life's play is swift,<br>Life's playthings fall behind one by one<br>and are forgotten.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My flower, seek not thy paradise<br>in a fool's buttonhole.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou hast risen late, my crescent moon,<br>but my night bird is still awake to greet thee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Darkness is the veiled bride<br>silently waiting for the errant light<br>to return to her bosom.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Trees are the earth's endless effort to<br>speak to the listening heaven.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The burden of self is lightened<br>when I laugh at myself.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The weak can be terrible <br>because they try furiously to appear strong.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The wind of heaven blows,<br>The anchor desperately clutches the mud,<br>and my boat is beating its breast against the chain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The spirit of death is one,<br>the spirit of life is many,<br>Whe God is dead religion becomes one.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The blue of the sky longs for the earth's green,<br>the wind between them sighs, 'Alas.'<br>Day's pain muffled by its own glare,<br>burns among stars in the night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The stars crowd round the virgin night<br>in silent awe at her loneliness<br>that can never be touched.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The cloud gives all its gold<br>to the departing sun<br>and greets the rising moon<br>with only a pale smile.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He who does good comes to the temple gate,<br>he who loves reaches the shrine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Flower, have pity for the worm,<br>it is not a bee,<br>its love is a blunder and a burden.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With the ruins of terror's triumph<br>children build their doll's house.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The lamp waits through the long day of neglect<br>for the flame's kiss in the night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Feathers in the dust lying lazily content<br>have forgotten their sky.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The flowers which is single<br>need not envy the thorns<br>that are numerous.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The world suffers most from the disinterested tyranny<br>of its well-wisher.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We gain freedom whrn we have paid the full price<br>for our right to live.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Your careless gifts of a moment,<br>like the meteors of an autumn night,<br>catch fire in the depth of my being.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The faith waiting in the heart of a seed<br>promises a miracle of life<br>which it cannot prove at once.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Spring hesitates at winter's door,<br>but the mango blossom rashly runs our to him<br>before her time and meets her doom.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The world is the ever-changing foam<br>thet floats on the surface of a sea of silence.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The two separated shores mingle their voices<br>in a song of unfathomed tears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As a river in the sea,<br>work finds its fulfilment<br>in the depth of leisure.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I lingered on my way till thy cherry tree lost ist bossom,<br>but the azalea brins to me, my love, thy forgiveness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thy shy little pomegranate bud,<br>blushing to-day behind her veil,<br>will burst into a passionate flower<br>to-morrow when I am away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The clumsiness of power spoils the key,<br>and uses the pickaxe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Birth is from the mystery of night<br>into the grerater mystery of day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">These paper boats of mine are meant to dance<br>on the ripples of hours,<br>and not to reach any destination.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Migratory songs wing from my heart<br>and seek their nests in your voice of love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sea of danger, doubt and denial<br>around man's little island of certainty<br>challenges him to dare the unknown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Love punishes when it forgives,<br>and injured beauty by its awful silence.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You live alone and unrecompensed<br>because they are afraid of your great worth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The same sun is newly born in new lands<br>in a ring of endless dawns.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">God is world is ever renewed by death,<br>a Titan's ever crushed by its own existence.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The glow-worm while exploring the dust<br>never knows that stars are in the sky.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The tree is of to-day, the flower is old,<br>it brings with it the message<br>of the immemorial seed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Each rose that comes brings me greetings<br>from the Rose of an eternal spring.<br>God honours me when I work,<br>He loves me when I sing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My love of to-day finds no home<br>in the nest deserted by yesterday's love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The fire of pain tracse for my soul<br>a luminous path across her sorrow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The grass survives the hill<br>through its resurrections from countless deaths.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou hast vanished from my reach<br>leaving an impalpable touch in the blue of the sky,<br>an invisible image in the wind moving<br>among the shadows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In pity for the desolate branch<br>spring leaves to it a kiss that fluttered in a lonely leaf.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The shy shadow in the farden<br>loves the sun in silence,<br>Flowers guess the secret, and mile,<br>while the leaves whisper.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I leave no trace of wings in the air,<br>but I am glad I have had my flight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The fireflies, twinkling among leaves,<br>make the stars wonder.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The mountain remains unmoved<br>at its seeming defeat by the mist.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">While the rose said to the sun,<br>'I shall ever remember thee,'<br>her petals fell to the dust.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hills are the earth's gesture of despair<br>for the unreachable.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though the thorn in thy flower pricked me,<br>O Beauty,<br>I am grateful.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The world knows that the few<br>are more than the many.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let not my love be a burden on you, my friend,<br>know that it pays itself.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dawn plays her lute before the gate of darkness,<br>and is content to vanish when the sun comes out.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beauty is truth's smile<br>when she beholds her own face<br>in a perfect mirror.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The dew-drop knows the sun<br>only within its own tiny orb.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Forlorn thoughts from the forsaken hives of all ages,<br>swarming in the air, hum round my heart<br>and seek my voice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The desert is imprisoned in the wall<br>of its unbounded barrenness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the thrill of little leaves<br>I see the air's invisible dance,<br>and in their glimmering<br>the secret heart-beats of the sky.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You are like a flowering tree,<br>amazed when I praise you for your gifts.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The earth's sacrifical fire<br>flames up in her trees,<br>scattering sparks in flowers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Foretsts, the clouds of earth,<br>hold up to the sky their silence,<br>and clouds from above come down<br>in resonant showers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The world speaks to me in pictures,<br>my soul answers in music.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sky tells its beads all night<br>on the countless stars<br>in memory of the sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The darkness of night, like pain, is dumb,<br>the darkness of dawn, like peace, is silent.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pride engraves his frowns in stones,<br>loe offers her surrender in flowers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The obsequious brush curtails truth<br>in diference to the canvas which is narrow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The hill in its longing for the far-away sky<br>wishes to be like the cloud<br>with its endless urge of seeking.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To justify their own spilling of ink<br>they spell the day as night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Profit smiles on goodness<br>when the good is profitable.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In its swelling pride<br>the bubble doubts the turth of the sea,<br>and laughs and bursts into emptiness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Love is an endless mystery,<br>for it has nothing else to explain its.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My clouds, sorrowing in the dark,<br>forget that they themselves<br>have hidden the sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Man discovers his own wealth<br>when God comes to ask gifts of him.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You leave your memory as a flame<br>to my lonely lamp of separation.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I came to offer thee a flower,<br>but thou must have all my garden,—<br>It is thine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The picture—a memory of light<br>treasured by the shadow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is easy to make faces at the sun,<br>He is exposed by his own light in all<br>directions.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">History slowly smothers its truth,<br>but hastily struggles to revive it<br>in the terrible penance of pain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My work is rewarded in daily wages,<br>I wait for my final value in love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beauty knows to say, 'Enough,'<br>barbarism clamours for still more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">God loves to see in me, not his servant,<br>but himself who serves all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The darkness of night is in harmony with day,<br>the morning of mist is discordant.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the bounteous time of roses love is wine,—<br>it is food in the famished hour<br>when their petals are shed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An unknown flower in a strange land<br>speaks to the poet:<br>'Are we not of the same soil, my lover?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I am able to love my God<br>because He gives me freedom to deny Him.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My untuned strings beg for music<br>in their anguished cry of shame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The worm thinks it strange and foolish<br>that man does not eat his books.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The clouded sky to-day bears the visior<br>of the shadow of a divine sadness<br>on the forehead of brooding eternity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The shade of my tree is for passers-by,<br>its fruit for the one for whom I wait.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Flushed with the glow of sunset<br>earth seems like a ripe fruit<br>ready to be harvested by night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Light accepts darkness for his spouse<br>for the sake of creation.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The reed waits for his master's breath,<br>the Master goes seeking for his reed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To the blind pen the hand that writes is unreal,<br>its writing unmeaning.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sea smites his own barren breast<br>because he has no flowers to offer to the moon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The greed for fruit misses the flower.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">God in His temple of stars<br>waits for man to bring him his lamp.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The fire restrained in the tree fashions flowers.<br>Released from bonds, the shameless flame<br>dies in barren ashes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sky sets no snare to capture the moon,<br>it is her own freedom which binds her.<br>The light that fills the sky<br>seeks its limit in a dew-drop on the grass.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wealth is the burden of bigness,<br>Welfare the fulness of being.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The razor-blade is proud of its keenness<br>when it sneers at the sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The butterfly has leisure to love the lotus,<br>not the bee busily storing honey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Child, thou bringest to my heart<br>the babble of the wind and the water,<br>the flower's speechless secrets, the clouds' dreams,<br>the mute gaze of wonder of the morning sky.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The rainbow among the clouds may be great<br>but the little butterfly among the bushes is greater.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The mist weaves her net round the morning,<br>captivates him, and makes him blind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Morning Star whispers to Dawn,<br>'Tell me that you are only for me.'<br>'Yes,' she answers,<br>'And also only for that nameless flower.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sky remains infinitely vacant<br>for earth there to build its heaven with dreams.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Perhaps the crescent moon smiles in doubt<br>at being told that it is a fragment<br>awaiting perfection.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let the evening forgive the mistakes of the day<br>and thus win peace for herself.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beauty smiles in the confinement of the bud,<br>in the heart of a sweet incompleteness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Your flitting love lightly brushed with its wings<br>my sun-flower<br>and never asked if it was ready to surrender its honey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Leaves are silences<br>around flowers which are their words.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The tree bears its thousand years<br>as one large majestic moment.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My offerings are not for the temple at the end of the road,<br>but for the wayside shrines<br>that surprise me at every bend.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hour smile, my love, like the smell of a strange flower,<br>is simple and inexplicable.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Death laughs when the merit of the dead is exaggerated<br>for it swells his store with more than he can claim.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sigh of the shore follows in vain<br>the breeze that hastens the ship across the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Truth loves its limits,<br>for there it meets the beautiful.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Between the shores of Me and Thee<br>there is the loud ocean, my own surging self,<br>which I long to cross.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The right to possess boasts foolishly<br>of its right to enjoy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The rose is a great deal more<br>than a blushing apology for the thorn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Day offers to the silence of stars<br>his golden lute to be tuned<br>for the endless life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The wise know how to teach,<br>the fool how to smite.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The centre is still and silent in the heart<br>of an enternal dance of circles.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The judge thinks that he is just when he compares<br>The oil of another's lamp<br>with the light of his own.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The captive flower in the King's wreath<br>smiles bitterly when the meadow-flower envies her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Its store of snow is the hill's own burden,<br>its outpouring if streams is borne by all the world.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Listen to the prayer of the forest<br>for its freedom in flowers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let your love see me<br>even through the barrier of nearness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The spirit of work in creation is there<br>to carry and help the spirit of play.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To carry the burden of the insturment,<br>count the cost of its material,<br>and never to know that it is for music,<br>is the tragedy of deaf life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Faith is the bird that feels the light<br>and sings when the dawn is still dark.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I bring to thee, night, my day's empty cup,<br>to be cleansed with thy cool darkness<br>for a new morning's festival.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The mountain fir, in its rustling,<br>modulates the memory of its fights with the storm<br>into a hymn of peace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">God honoured me with his fight<br>when I was rebellious,<br>He ignored me when I was languid.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sectarina thinks<br>that he has the sea<br>ladled into his private pond.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the shady depth of life<br>are the lonely nests of memories<br>that shrink from words.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let my love find its strength<br>in the service of day,<br>its peace in the union of night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Life sends up in blades of grass<br>its silent hymn of praise<br>to the unnamed Light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The stars of night are to me<br>the memorials of my day's faded flowers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Open thy door to that which must go,<br>for the loss becomes unseemly when obstructed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">True end is not in the reaching of the limit,<br>but in a completion which is limitless.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The shore whispers to the sea:<br>'Write to me what thy waves struggle to say.'<br>The sea writes in foam again and again<br>and wipes off the lines in a boisterous despair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let the touch ofthy finger thrill my life's strings<br>and make the music thine and mine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The inner world rounded in my life like a fruit,<br>matured in joy and sorrow,<br>will drop into the darkness of the orogonal soil<br>for some further course of creation.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Form is in Matter, rhythm in Force,<br>meaning in the Person.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There are seekers of wisdom and seekers of wealth,<br>I seek thy company so that I may sing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As the tree its leaves, I shed my words on the earth,<br>let my thoughts unuttered flower in thy silence.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My faith in truth, my vision of the perfect,<br>help thee, Master, in thy creation.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All the delights that I have felt<br>in life's fruits and flowers<br>let me offer to thee at the end of the feast,<br>in a perfect union of love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some have thought deeply and explored the<br>meaning of thy truth,<br>and they are great;<br>I have listened to catch the music of thy play,<br>and I am glad.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The tree is a winged spirit<br>released from the bondage of seed,<br>pursuing its adventure of life<br>across the unknown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The lotus offers its beauty to the heaven,<br>the grass its service to the earth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sun's kiss mellows into abandonment<br>the miserliness of the green fruit clinging to its stem.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The flame met the earthen lamp in me,<br>and what a great marvel of light!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mistakes live in the neighbourhood of truth<br>and therefore delude us.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The cloud laughed at the rainbow<br>saying that is was an upstart<br>gaudy in its emptiness.<br>The rainbow calmly answered,<br>'I am as inevitably real as tha sun himself.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let me not grope in vain in the dark<br>but keep my mind still in the faith<br>that the day will break<br>and truth will appear<br>in its simplicity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Through the silent night<br>I hear the returning vagrant hopes of the morning<br>knock at my heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My new love comes<br>bringing to me the eternal wealth of the old.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The earth gazes at the moon and wonders<br>that she sould have all her music in her smile.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Day with its glare of curiosity<br>puts the stars to flight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My mind has itstrue union with thee, O sky,<br>at the window which is mine own,<br>and not in the open<br>where thou hast thy sole kingdom.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Man claims God's flowers as his own<br>when he weaves them in a garland.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The buried city, laid bare to the sun of a new age,<br>is ashamed that is has lost all its song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like my heart's pain that has long missed its meaning,<br>the sun's rays robed in dark<br>hide themselves under the ground.<br>Like my heart'spain at love's sudden touch,<br>they change their veil at the spring's call<br>and come out in the carnival of colours,<br>in flowers and leaves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My life's empty flute<br>waits for its final music<br>like the primal darkness<br>before the stars came out.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Emancipation from the bondage of the soil<br>is no freedom for the tree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The tapestry of life's story is woven<br>with the threads of life's ties<br>ever joining and breaking.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Those thoughts of mine that are never captured by words<br>perch upon my song and dance.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My soul to-night loses itself<br>in the silent heart of a tree<br>standing alone among the whispers of immensity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pearl shells cast up by the sea<br>on death's barren beach,—<br>a magnificent wastefulness of creative life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sunlight opens for me the word's gate,<br>love's light its terasure.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My life like the reed with ist stops,<br>has its play od colours<br>through the gaps in its hopes and gains.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let not my thanks to thee<br>rob my silence of its fuller homage.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Life's aspirations come<br>in the guise of children.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The faded flower sighs<br>that the spring has vanished for ever.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In my life's garden<br>my wealth has been of the shadows and lights<br>that are never gathered and stored.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The fruit that I Have gained for ever<br>is thet which thou hast accepted.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The jasmine knows the sun to be her brother<br>in the heaven.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Light is young, the ancient light;<br>shadows are of the moment, they are born old.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I feel that the ferry of my songs at the day's end<br>will brong me across to the other shore<br>from where I shall see.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The butterfly flitting from flower to flower<br>ever remains mine,<br>I lose the one that is netted by me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Your voice, free bird, reaches my sleeping nest,<br>and my drowsy wings dream<br>of a voyage to the light<br>above the clouds.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I miss the meaning of my own part<br>in the play of life<br>because I know not of the parts<br>that others play.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The flower sheds all its petals<br>and finds the fruit.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I leave my songs behind me <br>to the bloom of the ever-returning honeysuckles<br>and the joy of the wind from the south.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dead leaves when they lose themselves in soil<br>take part in the life of the forest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The mind ever seeks its words<br>from its sounds and silence<br>as the sky from its darkness and light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The unseen dark plays on his flute<br>and the rhythm of light<br>eddies into stars and suns,<br>into thoughts and reams.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My songs are to sing<br>that I have loved Thy singing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the voice of the Silent touches my words<br>I know him and therefore I know myself.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My last salutations are to them<br>who knew me imperfect and loved me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Love's gift cannot be given,<br>it waits to be accepted.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When death comes and whispers to me,<br>'Thy days are ended,'<br>let me say to him, 'I have lived in love<br>and not in mere time.'<br>He will ask, 'Will thy songs remain?'<br>I shall say, 'I know not, but this I know<br>that often when I sang I found my eternity.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Let me light my lamp,'<br>say the star,<br>'and never debate<br>if it will help to remove the darkness.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Before the end of my journey<br>may I reach within myself<br>the one which is the all,<br>leaving the outer shell<br>to float away with the drifting multitude<br>upon the current of chance and change.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rabindranath+Tagore">Rabindranath Tagore</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=479916" data-title="Fireflies de Rabindranath Tagore" data-description="My fancies are fireflies, — Specks of living light twinkling in the dark. he voice of wayside pansies, that do not attract the careless glance, murmurs in these desultory lines. In the drowsy dark caves of the mind dreams build their nest wit..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black