Meeting with him

The song that I came to sing
Remains unsung to this day.

I have spent my days in
Stringing and unstringing my instrument

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

The blossom has not opened;
Only the wind sighing by.

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.

The livelong day has passed in
Spreading his seat on the floor;
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.

- Verse 13 - Gitanjali
Rabindranath Tagore