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.

THIS AUTUMN morning is tired with excess of light, and if your songs grow fitful and languid give me your flute awhile.
I shall but play with it as the whim takes me,-now take it on my lap, now touch it with my lips, now keep it by my side on the grass.
But in the solemn evening stillness I shall gather flowers, to deck it with wreaths, I shall fill it with fragrance; I shall worship it with the lighted lamp.
Then at night I shall come to you and give you back your flute.
You will play on it the music of midnight when the lonely crescent moon wanders among the stars.

IN DEATH the many becomes one; in life the one becomes many.
Religion will be one when God is dead.