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 unspoken words burst
my sleep like a bubble.
I sat up and saw the glow 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, “Lover’s Gifts XXVIII: I Dreamt,” Lover’s Gift. (Rupa & Co. January 1, 2002) Originally published 1917.