I asked nothing, only stood at the <br />edge of the wood behind the tree. <br /> Languor was still upon the eyes <br />of the dawn, and the dew in the air. <br /> The lazy smell of the damp grass <br />hung in the thin mist above the earth. <br /> Under the banyan tree you were <br />milking the cow with your hands, <br />tender and fresh as butter. <br /> And I was standing still. <br /> I did not say a word. It was the <br />bird that sang unseen from the thicket. <br /> The mango tree was shedding its <br />flowers upon the village road, and the <br />bees came humming one by one. <br /> On the side of the pond the gate of <br />Shiva's temple was opened and the <br />worshipper had begun his chants. <br /> With the vessel on your lap you <br />were milking the cow. <br /> I stood with my empty can. <br /> I did not come near you. <br /> The sky woke with the sound of <br />the gong at the temple. <br /> The dust was raised in the road <br />from the hoofs of the driven cattle. <br /> With the gurgling pitchers at their <br />hips, women came from the river. <br /> Your bracelets were jingling, and <br />foam brimming over the jar. <br /> The morning wore on and I did not <br />come near you.<br /><br />Rabindranath Tagore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-gardener-xiii-i-asked-nothing/
