DARKLY YOU sweep on. Eternal Fugitive, round whose bodiless rush stagnant space frets into eddying bubbles of light. Is your heart lost to the Lover calling you across his immeasurable loneliness? Is the aching urgency of your haste the sole reason why your tangled tresses break into stormy riot and pearls of fire roll along your path as from a broken necklace? Your fleeting steps kiss the dust of this world into sweetness, sweeping aside all waste; the storm centred with your dancing limbs shakes the sacred shower of death over life and freshens her growth. Should you in sudden weariness stop for a moment, the world would rumble into a heap, an encumbrance, barring its own progress, and even the least speck of dust would pierce the sky throughout its infinity with an unbearable pressure. My thoughts are quickened by this rhythm of unseen feet round which the anklets of light are shaken. They echo in the pulse of my heart, and through my blood surges the psalm of the ancient sea. I hear the thundering flood tumbling my life from world to world and form to form, scattering my being in an endless spray of gifts, in sorrowings and songs. The tide runs high, the wind blows, the boat dances like thine own desire, my heart! Leave the hoard on the shore and sail over the unfathomed dark towards limitless light.
WHO IS AWAKE all alone in this sleeping earth, in the air drowsing among the moveless leaves? awake in the silent birds' nests, in the secret centres of the flower buds? awake in the throbbing stars of the night, in the depth of the pain of my being?
I FEEL THAT all the stars shine in me. The world breaks into my life like a flood. The flowers blossom in my body. All the youthfulness of land and water smokes like an incense in my heart; and the breath of all things plays on my thoughts as on a flute. II When the world sleeps I come to your door. The stars are silent, and I am afraid to sing. I wait and watch, till your shadow passes by the balcony of night and I return with a full heart. Then in the morning I sing by the roadside; The flowers in the hedge give me answer and the morning air listens, The travellers suddenly stop and look in my face, thinking I have called them by their names. III Keep me at your door ever attending to your wishes, and let me go about in your Kingdom accepting your call. Let me not sink and disappear in the depth of langour. Let not my life be worn out to tatters by penury of waste. Let not those doubts encompass me,-the dust of distractions. Let me not pursue many paths to gather many things. Let me not bend my heart to the yoke of the many. Let me hold my head high in the courage and pride of being your servant.
