He it is, the innermost one, who awakens my being with his deep hidden touches.
He it is who puts his enchantment upon these eyes and joyfully plays on the chords of my heart in varied cadence of pleasure and pain.
He it is who weaves the web of this maya in evanescent hues of gold and silver, blue and green, and lets peep out through the folds his feet, at whose touch I forget myself.
Days come and ages pass, and it is ever he who moves my heart in many a name, in many a guise, in many a rapture of joy and of sorrow.
Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941). Indian poet, novelist, musician, painter, mystic, cultural reformer and teacher. Winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913. Text: Poem number 72, from the book Gitanjali.