The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day. <br /> <br />I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument. <br /> <br />The time has not come true, the words have not been rightly set; <br />only there is the agony of wishing in my heart. <br /> <br />The blossom has not opened; only the wind is sighing by. <br /> <br />I have not seen his face, nor have I listened to his voice; <br />only I have heard his gentle footsteps from the road before my house. <br /> <br />The livelong day has passed in spreading his seat on the floor; <br />but the lamp has not been lit and I cannot ask him into my house. <br /> <br />I live in the hope of meeting with him; but this meeting is not yet.<br /><br />Rabindranath Tagore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-unsung/
