THE BOISTEROUS spring, who once came into my life with its lavish laughter, burdening her hours with improvident roses, setting skies aflame with the red kisses of new-born ashoka leaves, now comes stealing into my solitude through the lonely lanes along the breeding shadows heavy with silence, and sits still in my balcony gazing across the fields, where the green of the earth swoons exhausted in the utter paleness of the sky.

PICK UP THIS life of mine from the dust.
Keep it under your eyes, in the palm of your right hand.
Hold it up in the light, hide it under the shadow of death; keep it in the casket of the night with your stars, and then in the morning let it find itself among flowers that blossom in worship.

I.56. sukh sindh ki sair ka
THE SAVOUR of wandering in the ocean of deathless life has rid me of all my asking:
As the tree is in the seed, so all diseases are in this asking.