When I go alone at night to my love-tryst,
birds do not sing, the wind does not stir,
the houses on both sides of the street stand silent.
It is my own anklets that grow loud at every step
and I am ashamed.
When I sit on my balcony and listen to his footsteps,
leaves do not rustle on the trees,
and the water is still in the river like the sword on the
knees of a sentry fallen asleep.
It is my own heart that beats wildly -
I do not know how to quiet it.
When my love comes and sits by my side,
when my body trembles and
my eyelids drop,
the night darkens,
the winds blow out the lamp,
and the clouds draw veils over the stars.
It is the jewel at my own breast that shines and gives light.
I do not know how to hide it.
This short poem is an excerpt from 'The Gardener' by Tagore