PARDON ME, if in my pride, O maiden of a century, yet to be born, I picture you reading my poems, While the moon fills the gaps in my verse with its shower of silence. I seem to feel your heart throb and hear you murmur, 'If I were alive today and had we met he would love me.' I know you say to yourself, 'Only for this night let me light my lamp for him at my balcony, though I know he may never come.'
II. 56. dariya ki lahar dariyao hai ji THE RIVER and its waves are one surf: where is the difference between the river and its waves? When the wave rises, it is the water; and when it falls, it is the same water again. Tell me, Sir, where is the distinction? Because it has been named as wave, shall it no longer be considered as water? Within the Supreme Brahma, the worlds are being told like beads: Look upon that rosary with the eyes of wisdom.