THE GIRLS ARE out to fetch water from the river- their laughter comes through the trees, I long to join them in the lane, where goats graze in the shade, and squirrels flit from sun to shadow, across the fallen leaves.
But my day's task is already done, my jars are filled. I stand at my door to watch the glistening green of the areca leaves, and hear the laughing women going to fetch water from the river.
It has ever been dear to me to carry the burden of my full vessel day after day, in the dew-dipped morning freshness and in the tired glimmer of the dayfall.
Its gurgling water babbled to me when my mind was idle, it laughed with the silent laughter of my joyous thoughts-it spoke to my heart with tearful sobs when I was sad. I have carried it in stormy days, when the loud rain drowned the anxious cooing of doves.
My day's task is done, my jars are filled, the light wanes in the west, and shadows gather beneath the trees; a sigh comes from the flowering linseed field, and my wistful eyes follow the lane, that runs through the village to the bank of the dark water.

EARLY WINTER spreads her filmy veil
over midnight stars,
and the call comes from the deep,
'Man, bring out your lamp.'
The forests are bare of flowers,
the birds have ceased to sing
the river-side grass has shed its blossoms.
Come, Dipali, waken hidden flames
out of the desolate dark,
and offer symphony of praise to eternal light.
The stars are dimmed
the night is disconsolate,
and the call comes from the deep,
'Man, bring out your lamp.'

THY NATURE is to forget thyself;
but we remember thee.
Thou shinest in self-concealment
revealed by our love.
Thou lendest light from thine own soul
to those that are obscure.
Thou seekest neither love nor fame;
Love discovers thee.