Page:Chitra.djvu/57



do you watch me like that, my warrior?

I watch how you weave that garland. Skill and grace, the twin brother and sister, are dancing playfully on your ringer tips. I am watching and thinking.

What are you thinking, sir?

I am thinking that you, with this same lightness of touch and sweetness, are weaving my days of exile into an immortal wreath, to crown me when I return home.