come upon me? The world with eyes bent upon thy feet stands in
awe with all its silent stars.


I will deck thee with trophies, garlands of my defeat. It is
never in my power to escape unconquered.

I surely know my pride will go to the wall, my life will burst
its bonds in exceeding pain, and my empty heart will sob out in
music like a hollow reed, and the stone will melt in tears.

I surely know the hundred petals of a lotus will not remain
closed for ever and the secret recess of its honey will be bared.

From the blue sky an eye shall gaze upon me and summon me in
silence. Nothing will be left for me, nothing whatever, and
utter death shall I receive at thy feet.


When I give up the helm I know that the time has come for thee to
take it. What there is to do will be instantly done. Vain is
this struggle.

Then take away your hands and silently put up with your defeat,
my heart, and think it your good fortune to sit perfectly still
where you are placed.

These my lamps are blown out at every little puff of wind, and
trying to light them I forget all else again and again.