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Why Do You Whisper So Faintly

Rabindranath Tagore

When the flowers droop in the evening and cattle come back to their stalls, you stealthily come to my side and speak words that I do not understand.
Is this how you must woo and win me with the opiate of drowsy murmur and cold kisses, O Death, my Death?
Will there be no proud ceremony for our wedding?
Is there none to carry your banner before you, and will not the night be on fire with your red torch-lights, O Death, my Death?
Come with your conch-shells sounding, come in the sleepless night.
Let your chariot be ready at my door with your horses neighing impatiently.

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