HAVE YOU COME to me as my sorrow? All the more I must cling to you.
Your face is veiled in the dark, all the more I must see you.
At the blow of death from your hand let my life leap up in a flame.
Tears flow from my eyes,-let them flow round your feet in worship.
And let the pain in my breast speak to me that you are, still mine.

YOU, LIKE A rivulet swift and sinuous, laugh and dance, and your steps sing as you trip along.
        I, like a bank rugged and steep, stand speechless and stock-still and darkly gaze at you.
I, like a big, foolish storm, of a sudden come rushing on and try to rend my being and scatter it parcelled in a whirl of passion.
        You, like the lightning's flash slender and keen, pierce the heart of the turbulent darkness, to disappear in a vivid streak of laughter.

'SIRE,' ANNOUNCED the servant to the King, 'the saint Narottam has never deigned to enter your royal temple.
'He is singing God's praise under the trees by the open road. The temple is empty of worshippers.
'They flock round him like bees round the white lotus, leaving the golden jar of honey unheeded.'
The King, vexed at heart, went to the spot where Narottam sat on the grass.
He asked him, 'Father, why leave my temple of the golden dome and sit on the dust outside to preach God's love?'
'Because God is not there in your temple,' said Narottam.
The King frowned and said, 'Do you know, twenty millions of gold went to the making of that marvel of art, and it was consecrated to God with costly rites?'
'Yes, I know it,' answered Narottam. It was in that year when thousands of your people whose houses had been burned stood vainly asking for help at your door.
'And God said, "The poor creature who can give no shelter to his brothers would build my house!"
'And he took his place with the shelterless under the trees by the road.
'And that golden bubble is empty of all but hot vapour of pride.'
The King cried in anger, 'Leave my land.'
Calmly said the saint, 'Yes, banish me where you have banished my God.'