He it is, the innermost one,
who awakens my being with his deep hidden touches.
He it is who puts his enchantment upon these eyes
and joyfully plays on the chords of my heart
in varied cadence of pleasure and pain.
He it is who weaves the web of this maya
in evanescent hues of gold and silver, blue and green,
and lets peep out through the folds his feet,
at whose touch I forget myself.
Days come and ages pass,
and it is ever he who moves my heart in many a name,
in many a guise, in many a rapture of joy and of sorrow.
Rabindranath Tagore's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Innermost One by Rabindranath Tagore )
Did you read them?
- Let's live in Tokyo, Mark Heathcote
- Second class soul, Liss March
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- TWO LOVERS ON A PORCH IN THE MIDWEST, NICHOLAS CAMPBELL
- See and feel, gajanan mishra
- Am i here by virtue of the shadows, cristobal Benjumea
- SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT THE SUN, NICHOLAS CAMPBELL
- I am always with you, gajanan mishra
- SOFT POCKET HERCULES, NICHOLAS CAMPBELL
- You cannot go, gajanan mishra
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