XVII

I brought out my earthen lamp from my house and cried, "Come,
children, I will light your path!"

The night was still dark when I returned, leaving the road to its
silence, crying, "Light me, O Fire! for my earthen lamp lies
broken in the dust!"



XVIII

No: it is not yours to open buds into blossoms.

Shake the bud, strike it; it is beyond your power to make it
blossom.

Your touch soils it, you tear its petals to pieces and strew them
in the dust.

But no colours appear, and no perfume.

Ah! it is not for you to open the bud into a blossom.

He who can open the bud does it so simply.

He gives it a glance, and the life-sap stirs through its veins.

At his breath the flower spreads its wings and flutters in the