Like heart-longings

Ah! it is not for you to open the bud into a blossom.
He who can open the bud does it so simply.
He gives it a glance, and the life-sap stirs through its veins.
At his breath the flower spreads its wings and flutters in the wind.
Colours flush out like heart-longings,
The perfume betrays a sweet secret.
He who can open the bud does it so simply.
Fruit-Gathering, Rabindranath Tagore