11 <br />SOME unseen fingers, like idle breeze, <br />are playing upon my heart the music of the ripples. <br /> <br />12 <br /> <br />'WHAT language is thine, O sea?' <br />'The language of eternal question.' <br />'What language is thy answer, O sky? <br />'The language of eternal silence.' <br /> <br />13 <br /> <br />LISTEN, <br />my heart, <br />to the whispers of the world <br />with which it makes love to you. <br /> <br />14 <br /> <br />THE mystery of creation <br />is like the darkness of night-- <br />it is great. <br /> <br />Delusions of knowledge are like <br />the fog of the morning. <br /> <br />15 <br /> <br />DO not seat your love upon a precipice because it is high. <br />16 <br /> <br />I SIT at my window this morning <br />where the world like a passer-by stops for a moment, <br />nods to me and goes. <br /> <br />17 <br /> <br />THESE little thoughts are the rustle of leaves; <br />they have their whisper of <br />joy in my mind. <br /> <br />18 <br /> <br />WHAT you are you do not see, <br />what you see is your shadow. <br /> <br /> <br />19 <br /> <br />MY wishes are fools, they shout across thy songs, my Master. <br />Let me but listen. <br /> <br />20 <br /> <br />I CANNOT choose the best. <br />The best chooses me.<br /><br />Rabindranath Tagore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stray-birds-11-20/
