YOU HAVE made me great with your love, though I am but one among the many, drifting in the common tide, rocking in the fluctuant favour of the world. You have given me a seat where poets of all time bring their tribute, and lovers with deathless names greet one another across the ages. Men hastily pass me in the market,never nothing how my body has grown precious with your caress, how I carry your kiss within, as the sun carries in its orb the fire of the divine touch and shines for ever.
IF THE RAGGED villager, trudging home from the market, could suddenly be lifted to the crest of a distant age, men would stop in their work and shout and run to him in delight. For they would no longer whittle down the man into the peasant, but find him full of the mystery and spirit of his age. Even his poverty and pain would grow great, released from the shallow insult of the present, and the paltry things in his basket would acquire pathetic dignity.
