The song I came to sing <br />remains unsung to this day. <br />I have spent my days in stringing <br />and in unstringing my instrument. <br /> <br />The time has not come true, <br />the words have not been rightly set; <br />only there is the agony <br />of wishing in my heart….. <br /> <br />I have not seen his face, <br />nor have I listened to his voice; <br />only I have heard his gentle footsteps <br />from the road before my house….. <br /> <br />But the lamp has not been lit <br />and I cannot ask him into my house; <br />I live in the hope of meeting with him; <br />but this meeting is not yet.<br /><br />Rabindranath Tagore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/waiting-361/
