Over the green and yellow rice-fields <br />sweep the shadows of the autumn <br />clouds followed by the swift-chasing <br />sun. <br /> The bees forget to sip their honey; <br />drunken with light they foolishly hover <br />and hum. <br /> The ducks in the islands of the river <br />clamour in joy for mere nothing. <br /> Let none go back home, brothers, <br />this morning, let none go to work. <br /> Let us take the blue sky by storm <br />and plunder space as we run. <br /> Laughter floats in the air like foam <br />on the flood. <br /> Brothers, let us squander our <br />morning in futile songs.<br /><br />Rabindranath Tagore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-gardener-lxxxiv-over-the-green/
