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 I go to my new house,
               switch the table-lamp on,
               the table is all effulgence.
               streams of light flow    on its sides.

                   I take the living lamp to other rooms
                   to see if the bright bulb kindles its kind,
                         bulb after bulb I try at every site,
                         no bulb wakes up from its sleep.

               Tired, I turn to my old house
               and light my earthen lamp,
               with it I pass to my neighbors
               and light many a meanest lamp.

                       Each house glows with a happy fire.
                       Each head turns into a walking spire.
                       "I"     goes out the door.
                         "We"      comes in the front door.

               - I. K. Sharma, Jaipur, India

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