Tagore: The Gardener - 78

It was in May. The sultry noon seemed endlessly long. The dry earth gaped with thirst in the heat.

When i heard from the riverside a voice calling, “Come, my darling!”

I shut my book and opened the window to look out.

I saw a big buffalo with mud-stained hide, standing near the river with placid, patient eyes; and a youth, knee deep in water, calling it to its bath.

I smiled amused and felt a touch of sweetness in my heart.