Gitanjali 102

I boasted among men that I had known
you. They see your pictures in all 
works of mine. They come and ask
me, “Who is he?” I know not how 
to answer them. I say, “Indeed, I 
cannot tell.” They blame me and they 
go away in scorn. And you sit there
smiling.
    I put my tales of you into lasting 
songs. The secret gushes out from my
heart. They come and ask me, “Tell
me all your meanings.” I know not
how to answer them. I say, “Ah, who
knows what they mean!” They smile
and go away in utter scorn. And you
sit there smiling.