I want to give you something, my child, for we are drifting in thestream of the world. Our lives will be carried apart, and our love forgotten. But I am not so foolish as to hope that I could buy your heartwith my gifts. Young is your life, your path long, and you drink the love webring you at one draught and turn and run away from us. You have your play and your playmates.
What harm is there ifyou have no time or thought for us! We, indeed, have leisure enough in old age to count the daysthat are past, to cherish in our hearts what our hands have lostfor ever. The river runs swift with a song, breaking through allbarriers.
But the mountain stays and remembers, and follows herwith his love.(This poem is from 'The Crescent Moon' by Tagore)
