I've just recently discovered Rabindranath Tagore, a Bengali poet and philosopher who lived at the turn of the 20th century. Born to an influential family from Calcutta, Tagore began writing poetry at the age of 8. He went on to win the Nobel prize in 1913, the first non-European so honored.
The following poem, with its enchanting images of light - flowing, kissing, swirling, and shattering - is as mesmerizing as a summer dusk filled with fireflies. As I read and reread its lines, I can't help but relive again those moments when I've been swept along as heaven's banks released a flood of joy.
Light, my light, the world-filling light,
the eye-kissing light,
Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the center of my life;
the light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love;
the sky opens, the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth.
The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light.
Lilies and jasmines surge up on the crest of the waves of light.
The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling,
and it scatters gems in profusion.
Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling,
and gladness without measure.
The heaven's river has drowned its banks
and the flood of joy is abroad.