human
Can you write me a poem about life and herald?
assistant
Sure, here's a poem about life and herald:
  Row no more, but fasten the boat to a tree.
For once be careless, timid traveller, and utterly lose your way;
Come, stray into my heart, you tender little feet, and leave the
everlasting print of songs on my dreamland path.
I am like the night to you, little flower.
The scholars fight to-day about dates that play hide-and-seek.
Be not concerned about her heart, my heart: leave it in the dark.
Like the dawn you are without veil, Urvashi, and without shame.
Adored are you of all men in all ages, Urvashi, O endless wonder!
You desired my love and yet you did not love me.
Who says it is hard to forget?
Of all days you have chosen this one to visit my garden.
I forgot myself for a moment, and I came.
For a moment bear with me if I forget myself.
That times are changed I forget for a little, and have come.
I forget that you do not remember, and I come.
She looks in my face and says, "Nothing, nothing whatsoever."
Tell me, for whom do you wait?
She looks in my face and says, "No one, no one at all!"
Not so much bitterness! Smile, and give me leave to go.
Devayani, tell me how I have offended?
The memory of her has become a part of my life.
Some things are beyond the power of words.
Meekly I went back to my work.
Mind began to say, "Not enough to contain--" and then stopped.
"Contain what?" I asked.
Mind affected not to hear.
His one refrain was, "I must have more."
"Why must you?"
"Because it is great."
"What is great?"
Mind remained silent. I pressed for an answer.
I thought "Possibly Mind is wise."
"It is close at hand," said the mad man.
I went to the office and boldly said to Mind, "Stop all work!"
Mind asked, "Have you any news?"
"Yes," I answered, "News of the Coming." But I could not explain.
"Here is the herald!"
I bowed my head and asked, "Is he coming?"
The answer seemed to burst from all sides, "Yes."
A voice came from the sky, "Pull down your building!"
"But why?" asked Mind.
Mind looked about. But what was there to see?
Only the morning star and the lily washed in dew.
"And did they claim all the earth only for this?"
"What does that child bring you?"
"Hope for all the world and its joy."
Mind asked me, "Poet, do you understand?"
Oh Sakhi, my sorrow knows no bounds.
August comes laden with rain clouds and my house is desolate.
The peacocks dance, for the clouds rumble and frogs croak.
The night brims with darkness flicked with lightning.
Lucky was my awakening this morning, for I saw my beloved.
To-day my house becomes my house in truth, and my body my body.
Fortune has proved a friend, and my doubts are dispelled.
Birds, sing your best; moon, shed your fairest light!
Let fly your darts, Love-God, in millions!
I wait for the moment when my body will grow golden at his touch.
I feel my body vanishing into the dust whereon my beloved walks.
I feel one with the water of the lake where he bathes.
Oh Sakhi, my love crosses death's boundary when I meet him.
You dwell in my being when I sleep and when I wake.
"Fruit to sell, Fruit to sell," cried the woman at the door.
The Child came out of the house.
The fruit-seller gazed at his face and her eyes swam with tears.
I remember the day.
My songs are like bees; they follow through the air some fragrant
Lay down your lute, my love, leave your arms free to embrace me.
Whence do you bring this disquiet, my love?
Let my heart touch yours and kiss the pain out of your silence.
It is so thin that you secretly smile at it and I feel ashamed.
Would you know them, friend, if the words were colourless?
Would you know them, friend, if there were no tune?
In the night the song came to me; but you were not there.
The night deepens and the dying flame flickers in the lamp.
I was speaking to you, my love, with mind barely conscious of my
I bring you a voiceless instrument.
The father came back from the funeral rites.
"In heaven," answered his father, pointing to the sky.
At night the father groaned in slumber, weary with grief.
The boy raised his eyes to the sky and long gazed in silence. His
She went away when the night was about to wane.
My mind tried to console me by saying, "All is vanity."
Suddenly I felt a voice saying--"Ungrateful!"
The river is grey and the air dazed with blown sand.
They ask me, "Who should fold us?"
Whom should they seek?
Your unuttered words meet mine in a ritual unillumined by lamps.
Her eyes looked like a morning whose dew is still in the air.
I blushed and said, "Yes, but years have passed and I forget."
Then I took her hand in mine and said, "But you have changed."
"What was sorrow once has now become peace," she said.
_Night on the battlefield:_ AMA _meets her father_ VINAYAKA.
I have my son.
Death's open gates are wider than a father's love!
_Enter_ RAMA, AMA'S _mother_
Touch me not with impure hands!
I am as pure as yourself.
To whom have you surrendered your honour?
To my husband.
Husband? A Mussulman the husband of a Brahmin woman?
Are you indeed a true wife?
Do you know how to die without flinching?
I do.
Soldiers, light the fire; surround the woman!
Free her, soldiers! She is my daughter.
She is the widow of our master.
Her husband, though a Mussulman, was staunch in his own faith.
Soldiers, keep this old man under control!
Yet the Clown stood up and laughed till he laughed no more.
You have compassed your end.
Success is mine!
Are you happy?
I am victorious.
Wretch, you forget that both Pandavas and Kauravas have the same
forefathers.
The mean jealousy!
But right has been defeated.
I refuse to call a conquest what was won by fraud in gambling.
wilderness, where happily friends are never cheap!
Sire, Queen Gandhari asks for audience.
I await her.
Let me take my leave. [_Exit._
Fly! For you cannot bear the fire of your mother's presence.
_Enter_ QUEEN GANDHARI, _the mother of_ DURYODHANA
At your feet I crave a boon.
Speak, your wish is fulfilled.
The time has come to renounce him.
Whom, my queen?
Our own son, Duryodhana?
This is a terrible boon for you, his mother, to crave!
What will remain to us after that?
God's blessing.
And what will that bring us?
Queen, you inflict fresh pain on a heart already rent.
My lute said, "Trample me in the dust."
I sit here on the road; do not ask me to walk further.
I refuse to beg a sight of you if you do not feel my need.
In love the aim is neither pain nor pleasure but love only.
In your being it leaps under the rod of pain.
Strange ways has my guest.
He comes at times when I am unprepared, yet how can I refuse him?
Yet I never complain when I do not understand him.
I am the boat, you are the sea, and also the boatman.
If you are only the haven, as they say, then what is the sea?
Let it surge and toss me on its waves, I shall be content.
Make way, O bud, make way, burst open thy heart and make way.
She stands at her window looking out into the sky.
Her sister comes to say, "Mother calls you." She shakes her head.
Yes, my holiday is an endless freedom for love to disturb me.
Her little dog jumped and barked at her busy hands, as though her
He asked himself in wonder, "How do I deserve this?"
The Queen said to the King, "Let us go and attend the festival."
He bowed his head, saying, "It cannot be."
"I dare not seek God after the King's fashion," said the man.
"When God himself comes to my door," answered the man.
"Who except God visits the poor?" said the man.
But who does ever understand?
In June rain sometimes shades her band of daylight as with pencil
The magnificence of wealth had found a fitting memorial in gaunt
For years he sat alone till his penance was complete.
"I no longer need it," said he.
The God asked him what greater reward he desired.
"I want the girl who gathers twigs."
shamelessness.
high-priest_.
Where would you go, King?
Come down, King! Come down from that chariot bound for Heaven.
Who are you?
Come down, King!
Stop, no more, I pray!
Ritvik, your presence is a disgrace to hell itself!
_Enter_ DHARMA, _the Judge of Departed Spirits_
King, Heaven waits for you.
No, not for me. I killed my own child.
Your sin has been swept away in the fury of pain it caused you.
I will stay.
The man had no useful work, only vagaries of various kinds.
The man says to her, "Would you lend me your pitcher?"
"My pitcher?" she asks, "to draw water?"
"No, to paint patterns on."
"I have no time to waste," the girl retorts in contempt.
Now a busy soul has no chance against one who is supremely idle.
"It has no meaning," he answers.
On the next day the man is again near the well.
The girl asks, "What do you want?"
"To do more work for you."
"What work?" she enquires.
"Is there any need?" she asks.
"None whatever," he allows.
The elders are troubled; they meet in council.
The chief of the elders says, "You must go back to the earth."
The man heaves a sigh of relief: "I am ready."
The girl with the ribbon round her hair chimes in: "I also!"
He asked her in a whisper, "Tell me, what fairy art thou?"
The Prince thought she was the laughing fairy of the waterfall.
All asked, "Where is the fairy bride?"
Kunti! The mother of Arjuna?
humility;--even the mother of Arjuna!
But what brings you here alone, Mother of kings?
I have a boon to crave.
I have come to take you.
To my breast thirsting for your love, my son.
Your place is before all my other sons.
But what right have I to take it?
Your own God-given right to your mother's love.
Then delay not, my son, come with me!
Am I there to find my lost mother for ever?
O my son!
Mother, accept my tears!
Daily I passed you unheeded on the road.
Was not all your pleasure stored therein?
Messenger, morning brought you, habited in gold.
Your message was written in bright letters across black.
Great is the festival hall where you are to be the only guest.
Ah, who is this whose arms enfold me?