When stars and moon are mute in trance
My bosom pines for Thee.
My love for Thee smashes my pride
Of dumb eternity.  

I hear at times Thy golden flute,
But beyond my reach Thou art.  
My sacrifice in vain will end.  
Of what is made Thy Heart?

 By: Sri Chinmoy

From: My First Friendship with the Muse