To attempt to lay the entire onus of so flagrant a spiritual and cerebral degeneration to the writing of vers libre alone is of course impossible. But the tendency is clear. Fortunately, however, we are not all Ezra Pounds and there are still poets balanced enough to appreciate these dangers and to make of free verse the wonderful vehicle it can be in the hands of a genius.
Union
Rabindranath Tagore
(Translated from the original Bengali by Basanta Koomar Roy, author of “Rabindranath Tagore: The Poet and His Personality.”)
Beloved, every part of my being craves for the corresponding part of yours. My heart is heavy with its own restlessness, and it yearns to fall senseless on yours.
My eyes linger on your eyes, and my lips long to attain salvation by losing their existence on your lips.
My thirsty heart is crying bitterly for the unveilment of your celestial form.
The heart is deep in the ocean of being, and I sit by the forbidding shore and moan for ever.