ਪੰਨਾ:ਲਹਿਰਾਂ ਦੇ ਹਾਰ.pdf/72

ਵਿਕੀਸਰੋਤ ਤੋਂ
ਇਸ ਸਫ਼ੇ ਦੀ ਪਰੂਫ਼ਰੀਡਿੰਗ ਕੀਤੀ ਗਈ ਹੈ

THE KIKAR TREE.


I grow upward, my march is

heavenward,

My face is turned to the God of

the skies !

Nor village, nor city, nor palace,

nor hut I need in this world of

thine,

I am he who can pass his days

without a roof over his head, in

rain, sunshine, hail and storm.

I love to look at the God of the

skies. I need but a small piece of ground

for my roots to stand in, to

blossom, bear fruit and die !

I need neither raiment nor food

from thee, O world !

The rain-water is enough for me;

I drink and I grow !

I live on air, I desire naught,

I am all alone in myself; the

ascetic of centuries passed and

the ascetic of the centuries yet

to come !

And yet for me, O world ! thou

hast but an axe !


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