2002-11-03 @ 2:34 a.m.

permanent mood:

by Tagore

If, by chance, you think of me, I shall sing to you when the rainy evening loosens her shadows upon the river, slowly trailing her dim light towards the west,--when the day¡¯s remnant is too narrow for work or for play.

You will sit alone in the balcony of the south, and I shall sing from the darkened room. In the growing dusk, the smell of the wet leaves will come through the window; and the stormy winds will become clamorous in the cocoanut grove.

When the lighted lamp is brought into the room, I shall go. And then, perhaps you will listen to the night, and hear my song when I am ~silent~.