Songs of Tagore

The day is no more, 
the shadow is upon the earth. 
It is time that I go to the stream 
to fill my pitcher.

The evening air is eager 
with the sad music of the water. 
Ah, it calls me out into the dusk. 
In the lonely lane there is no passer-by, 
the wind is up, 
the ripples are rampant in the river.

I know not if I shall come back home. 
I know not whom I shall chance to meet. 
There at the fording in the little boat 
the unknown man plays upon his lute.

Light, my light, the world-filling light,
the eye-kissing light, heart-sweetening light!

Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the centre of my life;
the light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love;
the sky opens, the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth.

The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light.
Lilies and jasmines surge up on the crest of the waves of light.

The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling,
and it scatters gems in profusion.

Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling,
and gladness without measure. 
The heaven's river has drowned its banks 
and the flood of joy is abroad.

Art thou abroad on this stormy night 
on thy journey of love, my friend?
The sky groans like one in despair.
I have no sleep tonight. 
Ever and again I open my door
and look out on the darkness, my friend!
I can see nothing before me. 
I wonder where lies thy path!
By what dim shore of the ink-black river,
by what far edge of the frowning forest,
through what mazy depth of gloom art thou threading 
thy course to come to me, my friend?