The Gardener (Tagore)/21

Why did he choose to come to my door, the wandering youth, when the day dawned? As I come in and out I pass by him everytime, and my eyes are caught by his face. I know not if I should speak to him or keep silent. Why did he choose to come to my door?

The cloudy night in July are dark; the sky is soft blue in autumn; the spring days are restless with the south wind. He weaves his songs with fresh tunes every time. I turn from my work and my eyes fill with the mist. Why did he choose to come to my door?