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作者: Rabindranath Tagore

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Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling, and gladness without
measure. The heaven's river has drowned its banks and the flood
of joy is abroad.
58.
Let all the strains of joy mingle in my last song-the joy that
makes the earth flow over in the riotous excess of the grass, the
joy that sets the twin brothers, life and death, dancing over the
wide world, the joy that sweeps in with the tempest, shaking and
waking all life with laughter, the joy that sits still with its
tears on the open red lotus of pain, and the joy that throws
everything it has upon the dust, and knows not a word.
59.
Yes, I know, this is nothing but thy love, O beloved of my heart-
this golden light that dances upon the leaves, these idle clouds
sailing across the sky, this passing breeze leaving its coolness
upon my forehead.
The morning light has flooded my eyes-this is thy message to my
heart. Thy face is bent from above, thy eyes look down on my
eyes, and my heart has touched thy feet.
60.

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