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Tagore, Rabindranath, 1861-1941

"The Fugitive"


My holiday must be taken through yours, finding light in the dance of your
eyes, music in your noisy shouts.
To you autumn brings the true holiday freedom: to me it brings the
impossibility of work; for lo! you burst into my room.
Yes, my holiday is an endless freedom for love to disturb me.

13

In the evening my little daughter heard a call from her companions below
the window.
She timidly went down the dark stairs holding a lamp in her hand, shielding
it behind her veil.
I was sitting on my terrace in the star-lit night of March, when at a
sudden cry I ran to see.
Her lamp had gone out in the dark spiral staircase. I asked, "Child, why
did you cry?"
From below she answered in distress, "Father, I have lost myself!"
When I came back to the terrace under the star-lit night of March, I looked
at the sky, and it seemed that a child was walking there treasuring many
lamps behind her veils.
If their light went out, she would suddenly stop and a cry would sound from
sky to sky, "Father, I have lost myself!"

14

The evening stood bewildered among street lamps, its gold tarnished by the
city dust.


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