17
From the solemn gloom of the temple
children run out to sit in the dust,
God watches them play
and forgets the priest.
18
My mind starts up at some flash
on the flow of its thoughts
like a brook at a sudden liquid note of its own
that is never repeated.
19
In the mountain, stillness surges up
to explore its own height;
in the lake, movement stands still
to contemplate its own depth.
20
The departing night's one kiss
on the closed eyes of morning
glows in the star of dawn.
21
Maiden, thy beauty is like a fruit
which is yet to mature,
tense with an unyielding secret.
22
Sorrow that has lost its memory
is like the dumb dark hours
that have no bird songs
but only the cricket's chirp.
23
Bigotry tries to keep truth safe in its hand
with a grip that kills it.
Wishing to hearten a timid lamp
great night lights all her stars.
24
Though he holds in his arms the earth-bride,
the sky is ever immensely away.