I am restless. I am athirst for faraway things. My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance. O Great Beyond, O the keen call… - Rabindranath Tagore

I am only waiting for love to give myself up at last into his hands.
That is why it is so late and why I have been guilty of such omissions.
They come with their laws and their codes to bind me fast; but I
evade them ever, for I am only waiting for love to give myself up at
last into his hands.
People blame me and call me heedless; I doubt not they are right
in their blame.
The market day is over and work is all done for the busy. Those
who came to call me in vain have gone back in anger. I am only
waiting for love to give myself up at last into his hands.

nationalism is a cruel epidemic of evil that is sweeping over the human world of the present age,

استَيْقَظْتُ
فَوَجَدْتُ رِسَالَتِه تَأْتِيني مَع الصَّبَاحِ
لا أَدْرِي مَا تَقُولُ الرِّسالةُ
لأَنِّي لاَ أَعْرِفُ القرَاءَةَ
سَأَدَعُ العَالِم الحَكِيم مُنْصَرِفاً إِلى كُتُبِهِ
وَلَسْتُ أَرْغَب في مُضَايَقَتِهِ
مَنْ يَدْرِي إِذا كَان سَيعْرِفُ مَا تَقُولُه الرِّسَالة
سأَطْبَعُهَا على جَبِينِي
وأَشُدُّها إِلى صَدْرِي
وحِينَ يَشيِيعُ السُّكُونُ في اللّيْلِ
وتَسْطَعُ النُّجُوم وَاحِدَةً بَعْدَ أُخْرَى
سَأَنْشُرَها فِي حِضْنِي
وأَظَلُّ صَامِتاً.
إن حفِيف الأَوْرَاق
سَيَتْلُوهَا عَلَيَّ بِصَوْتٍ عَالٍ.
ونُجُومُ الثُرَيَّا السَّبْع
ستُغَنِّيَها لِي مِن السَّمَاءِ.
لاَ أَعْرِفُ كَيْف أَعْثُرُ عَلَى مَا أَبْحثُ عَنْهُ
وَلاَ أَدْرِي مَا الذِي يَنْبَغِي عَلَيَّ مَعْرِفَتُهُ وَتَعلُّمُهُ
ولَكِن هَذِه الرِّسَالَة
خَفَّفَت أَعْبَائِي
وأَحَالَت أَفْكَارِي إِلي أُغْنِيَاتٍ.