Religion
Fruit-Gathering 45: My night has passed on the bed of
Translated by Rabindranath Tagore (1916) · From Fruit-Gathering (1916)
My night has passed on the bed of sorrow, and my eyes are tired. My heavy heart is not yet ready to meet morning with its crowded joys.
Draw a veil over this naked light, beckon aside from me this glaring flash and dance of life.
Let the mantle of tender darkness cover me in its folds, and cover my pain awhile from the pressure of the world.
Cite this poem
MLA
Tagore, Rabindranath. “Fruit-Gathering 45: My night has passed on the bed of.” Translated by Rabindranath Tagore. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/tagore/558/.
Chicago
Tagore, Rabindranath. “Fruit-Gathering 45: My night has passed on the bed of.” Translated by Rabindranath Tagore. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/tagore/558/.
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