My Love my love my love don’t love me..
I dreamt that she sat by my head, tenderly ruffling my hair with her fingers,
playing the melody of her touch.
I looked at her face and struggled with my tears,
till the agony of unpsoken words
burst my sleep like a bubble.
I sat up and saw the flow of the Milky Way above my window,
like a world of silence on fire,
and I wondered if at this moment
she had a dream that rhymed with
mine’ — Rabindranath Tagore
Frankfurt am Main, Nordend, 2014