The scouts of a distant storm
have pitched their cloud-tents in the sky
the light has paled;
the air is damp with tears in the voiceless shadow of the forest.
The peace of sadness is in my heart
like the brooding silence upon the master's lute
before the music begins.
My world is still
with the expectation of the great pain of thy coming into my life.
Rabindranath
have pitched their cloud-tents in the sky
the light has paled;
the air is damp with tears in the voiceless shadow of the forest.
The peace of sadness is in my heart
like the brooding silence upon the master's lute
before the music begins.
My world is still
with the expectation of the great pain of thy coming into my life.
Rabindranath
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