O Death, my Death by Rabindranath Tagore

O Death, my Death?
Come with your conch-shells sounding, come in the sleepless night,
Dress me with a crimson mantle, grasp my hand and take me.
Let your chariot be ready at my door with your horses neighing impatiently.
Raise my veil and look at me proudly,
O Death, my Death.


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