II
When thou commandest me to sing it seems that my heart
would break with pride; and I look to thy face, and tears come to my
eyes.
All that is harsh and dissonant in my life melts into one sweet
harmony—and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its
flight across the sea.
I know thou takest pleasure in my singing. I know that only as a
singer I come before thy presence.
I touch by the edge of the far-spreading wing of my song thy feet
which I could never aspire to reach.
Drunk with the joy of singing I forget myself and call thee friend
who art my lord.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore from Gitanjali (1912)
Added by Silvia Velea
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