LET ONLY THAT little be left of me whereby I may name thee my all. Let only that little be left of my will whereby I may feel thee on every side, and come to thee in everything, and offer to thee my love every moment. Let only that little be left of me whereby I may never hide thee. Let only that little of my fetters be left whereby I am bound with thy will, and thy purpose is carried out in my life-and that is the fetter of thy love.
AH, THESE jasmines, these white jasmines! I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with these jasmines, these white jasmines. I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth; I have heard the liquid murmur of the river through the darkness of midnight; Autumn sunsets have come to me at the bend of a road in the lonely waste, like a bride raising her veil to accept her lover. Yet my memory is still sweet with the first white jasmines that I held in my hand when I was a child. Many a glad day has come in my life, and I have laughed with merrymakers on festival nights. On grey mornings of rain I have crooned many an idle song. I have worn round my neck the evening wreath of bakulas woven by the hand of love. Yet my heart is sweet with the memory of the first fresh jasmines that filled my hands when I was a child.