MY HEART FEELS shy to bring to your vagrant mind the lyric of my secret lest its meaning be missed and its rhythm. I shall wait for some auspicious hour when the evening is compassionate, your eyes drowned in its tender dimness, and my voice reaches you in a profound calm of truth. I shall turn my secret round and round through my whisper at a lonely corner of your heart, even as the cricket among the silent sal trees turns single-toned beads of its chirping in the rosary of night.