Waiting

The song I came to sing remains unsung to this day.
I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument.

The time has not come true, the words have not been rightly set;
only there is the agony of wishing in my heart..

I have not seen his face, nor have I listened to his voice;
only I have heard his gentle footsteps, from the road before my house..
But the lamp has not been lit, and I cannot ask him into my house;
I live in the hope of meeting with him; but this meeting is not yet.

~ A poem by Rabindranath Tagore

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