Gitanjali - Play:
I am like a remnant of a cloud of autumn uselessly roaming in the sky, O my sun ever-glorious!
Your touch has not yet melted my vapour, making me one with your light, and thus I count months and years separated from you.
If this be your wish and if this be your play, then take this fleeting emptiness of mine, paint it with colours, gild it with gold, float it on the wanton wind and spread it in varied wonders.
And again when it shall be your wish to end this play at night, I shall melt and vanish away in the dark, or it may be in a smile of the white morning, in a coolness of purity transpartnt.