Rabindranath Tagore

IX
Amidst the rush and roar of life, O beauty, carved in stone,
    you stand mute and still, aloof, alone.

Great Time sits enamored at your feet and repeats to you:
“Speak, speak to me, my love; speak, my mute bride!”
But your speech is shut up in stone, O you immovably fair!

X
Tell me if this is all true, my lover?
    tell me if this is true.
When the eyes of me flash their lightening on you,
    dark clouds in your breast make stormy answer;
Is it then true
    that the dew drops fall from the night when I am seen,
    and the morning light is glad when it wraps my body?

Is it true, is it true, that your love
    traveled alone through ages and worlds in search of me?
    that when you found me at last, your age-long desire
    found utter peace in my gentle speech and my eyes
    and lips and flowing hair?

Is it then true
    that the mystery of the Infinite is written on this little 
        brow of mine?

Tell me, my lover, if all this is true!