A Hundred Years From Today
A Hundred Years From Today-by Rabindranath Tagore A hundred years from today who are you, sitting, reading a poem of mine, under curiosity’s sway - a hundred years from today? Not the least portion of this young spring’s morning bliss, neither blossom nor birdsong, nor any of its scarlet splashes can I drench in passion and despatch to your hands a hundred years hence! Yet do this, please: unlatch your south-faced door, just sit at your window for once; basking in fantasy, eyes on the far horizon, figure out if you can: how one day a hundred years back roving delights in a free fall from a heavenly region had touched all that there was - the infant Phalgun day, utterly free, was frenzied, all agog, while borne on brisk wings, the south wind pollen-scent-brushed had suddenly arrived and in a flash dyed the earth with all youth’s hues a hundred years before your day. There lived then a poet, ebullient of spirit, his heart steeped in song, who wanted to open his words li