Keen was he to see
the map of my country
and i handed him a peepal leaf.
He looked astounded. I asked:
'Does it not look like the heart?'
He wanted to know
the boundaries of my country
and I pointed toward
the flying birds far-off.
When asked about my country's history
I, in turn, asked him about
the history of earth and water.
He longed to hear my country's song
and I told him to listen
to roosters crowing at dawn,
pigeons cooing and humming,
children crying and children giggling.
Eager was he to know
the faiths of my country
and I related to him
the pristine stories of embracing.
When asked about my country's language
I in turn asked him about
the language of tears and laughter.
[Read at Tagore's 150th Birth Day anniversary at New Delhi.]
the map of my country
and i handed him a peepal leaf.
He looked astounded. I asked:
'Does it not look like the heart?'
He wanted to know
the boundaries of my country
and I pointed toward
the flying birds far-off.
When asked about my country's history
I, in turn, asked him about
the history of earth and water.
He longed to hear my country's song
and I told him to listen
to roosters crowing at dawn,
pigeons cooing and humming,
children crying and children giggling.
Eager was he to know
the faiths of my country
and I related to him
the pristine stories of embracing.
When asked about my country's language
I in turn asked him about
the language of tears and laughter.
[Read at Tagore's 150th Birth Day anniversary at New Delhi.]
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