Friday, March 27, 2009

22. From the Gardener by Tagore

22
When she passed by me with quick steps, the end of her skirt touched me.
From the unknown island of a heart came a sudden warm breath of spring.
A flutter of a flitting touch brushed me and vanished in a
moment, like a torn flower petal blown in the breeze.
It fell upon my heart like a sigh of her body and whisper of her heart.
From The Gardener
Rabindranath Tagore

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