The heart can think of no devotion Greater than being shore to the ocean- Holding the curve of one position, Counting an endless repetition.

Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away. And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh.

The same stream of life that runs through the world runs through my veins night and day.

It is the same life that emerges in joy through the dust of the earth into numberless waves of flower.

I sit at my window gazing The world passes by, nods to me And is gone.

Clouds come floating into my life from other days no longer to shed rain or usher storm but to give colour to my sunset sky.