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All the delights that I have felt
in life’s fruits and flowers
let me offer to thee
at the end of the feast
in a perfect unity of love.

Some have thought deep
and explored the meaning of thy truth,
and they are great;
I have listened to catch the music of thy play
and I am glad.

The lotus offers its beauty to the heaven,
the grass its service to the Earth.

The sun’s kiss mellows the miserliness
of the green fruit clinging to its stem
into an utter surrender.

Mistakes live in the neighbourhood of truth
and therefore delude us.

Day with its glare of curiosity
makes the stars disappear.



The cloud laughed at the rainbow
saying that it was an upstart
gaudy in its emptiness.
The rainbow calmly answered,
“I am as inevitable as the sun himself.”

Let me not grope in vain in the dark
but keep my mind still in the faith
that the day will break
and truth will appear in the majesty
of its simplicity.

My mind has its true union with thee,
O sky,
at the window which is mine own,
and not in the open
where thou hast thy sole kingdom.

Vacancy in my life’s flute
waits for its music
like the primal darkness
before the stars came out.



Emancipation from the bondage of the soil
is no freedom for the tree.

The tapestry of life’s story is woven
by the joining and breaking of the threads
of life’s ties.

Those thoughts of mine that soar
free in the air
come to perch upon my songs.

My soul tonight loses itself
in the silent heart of a tree
standing alone among the whispers
of immensity.

Pearl shells cast up by the sea
on death’s barren beach—
a magnificent wastefulness
of creative life.

My life has its play of colours through thwarted hopes
and gains incomplete
like the reed that has its music through its gaps.

Let not my thanks to thee rob my silence
of its fuller homage.

Life’s aspiration comes in the guise of a child.

The fruit that I have gained for ever
is that which has been accepted by love.

In my life’s garden my wealth has been
of shadows and lights
that are never gathered and stored.

Light is young, the ancient light,
shadows are of the moment,
they are born old.

My songs are to sing that I have loved thy singing.

Men form constellations with stars that are their
own stories
grown from the fiery mist of their passions,
power and dreams,
eddying into living spheres.