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.