Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines! <br /> I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with <br />these jasmines, these white jasmines. <br /> I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth; <br /> I have heard the liquid murmur of the river thorough the <br />darkness of midnight; <br /> Autumn sunsets have come to me at the bend of a road in the <br />lonely waste, like a bride raising her veil to accept her lover. <br /> Yet my memory is still sweet with the first white jasmines <br />that I held in my hands when I was a child. <br /> Many a glad day has come in my life, and I have laughed with <br />merrymakers on festival nights. <br /> On grey mornings of rain I have crooned many an idle song. <br /> I have worn round my neck the evening wreath of bakulas woven <br />by the hand of love. <br /> Yet my heart is sweet with the memory of the first fresh <br />jasmines that filled my hands when I was a child.<br /><br />Rabindranath Tagore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-first-jasmines/
