The Inside Assyria Discussion Forum #5

=> A poem by Rabindranath Tagore

Posted by Marcello (Guest) georgiomalik@yahoo.com - Sunday, December 26 2010, 3:52:08 (UTC)
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Thanksgiving by Rabindranath Tagore

Those who walk on the path of pride crushing the lowly life under
their tread, covering the tender green of the earth with their foot-
prints in blood;
Let them rejoice, and thank thee, Lord, for the day is theirs.
But I am thankful that my lot lies with the humble who suffer and
bear the burden of power, and hide their faces and stifle their sobs in
the dark.
For every throb of their pain has pulsed in the secret depth of thy
night, and every insult has been gathered into thy great silence.
And the morrow is theirs.
O Sun, rise upon the bleeding hearts blossoming in flowers of the
morning, and the torchlight revelry of pride shrunken to ashes.

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