The First Jasmines
Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines!
Autumn sunsets have come to me at the bend of a road in the
On grey mornings of rain I have crooned many an idle song.
Rabindranath Tagore
I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with
these jasmines, these white jasmines.
I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth;
I have heard the liquid murmur of the river thorough the
darkness of midnight;
lonely waste, like a bride raising her veil to accept her lover.
Yet my memory is still sweet with the first white jasmines
that I held in my hands when I was a child.
Many a glad day has come in my life, and I have laughed with
merrymakers on festival nights.
I have worn round my neck the evening wreath of bakulas
woven by the hand of love.
Yet my heart is sweet with the memory of the first fresh
jasmines that filled my hands when I was a child.
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