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I stood speechless with shame when my name thou didst ask.

Indeed, what had I done for thee to keep me in remembrance? But

the memory that I could give water to thee to allay thy thirst

will cling to my heart and enfold it in sweetness. The morning

hour is late, the bird sings in weary notes, neem leaves rustle

overhead and I sit and think and think.

55.

Languor is upon your heart and the slumber is still on your eyes.

Has not the word come to you that the flower is reigning in

splendour among thorns? Wake, oh awaken! let not the time pass in

vain!

At the end of the stony path, in the country of virgin solitude,

my friend is sitting all alone. Deceive him not. Wake, oh awaken!

What if the sky pants and trembles with the heat of the midday

sun-what if the burning sand spreads its mantle of thirst-

Is there no joy in the deep of your heart? At every footfall of

yours, will not the harp of the road break out in sweet music of

pain?

56.