My love, once upon a time your poet <br />launched a great epic in his mind. <br /> Alas, I was not careful, and it struck <br />your ringing anklets and came to <br />grief. <br /> It broke up into scraps of songs and <br />lay scattered at your feet. <br /> All my cargo of the stories of old <br />wars was tossed by the laughing waves <br />and soaked in tears and sank. <br /> You must make this loss good to me, <br />my love. <br /> If my claims to immortal fame after <br />death are scattered, make me immortal <br />while I live. <br /> And I will not mourn for my loss nor <br />blame you.<br /><br />Rabindranath Tagore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-gardener-xxxviii-my-love-once-upon-a-time/
