It was in May. The sultry noon s
When I heard from the riverside a
I shut my book and opened the wind
I saw a big buffalo with mud-stain
I smiled amused and felt a touch o

Are you a mere picture, and not as
this dust? They throb with the pul
immensely aloof in your stillness,
The day was when you walked with m
limbs singing of life. My world fo

The boat of the boatman Madhu is
It is uselessly laden with jute, a
for ever so long.
If he would only lend me his boat,
hundred oars, and hoist sails, fiv

If you would be busy and fill your
The water will cling round your fe
The shadow of the coming rain is o
I know well the rhythm of your ste
Come, O come to my lake, if you m

I spent my day on the scorching ho
Now, in the cool of the evening,
A grim ashath tree spreads its hun
Days have been when wayfarers came
They spread their mats in the cour

I hunt for the golden stag.
You may smile, my friends, but I
I run across hills and dales, I w
You come and buy in the market and
I have no care in my heart; all my

Time is endless in thy hands, my l
There is none to count thy minutes
Days and nights pass and ages bloo
Thou knowest how to wait.
Thy centuries follow each other pe

If baby only wanted to, he could f
It is not for nothing that he does
He loves to rest his head on mothe
bear to lose sight of her.
Baby know all manner of wise words

Man goes into the noisy crowd
to drown his own clamour of silenc
Man is immortal; therefore he must
For life is a creative idea;
it can only find itself in changin

I would ask for still more, if I
and the world with its endless ric
the smallest corner of this earth