He panted and said, “I can still get it back if you show me where it fell.”
The teacher took up the remaining bangle and throwing it into the water said, “It is there.”
XIII
To move is to meet you every moment,
Fellow-traveller!
It is to sing to the falling of your feet.
He whom your breath touches does not glide by the shelter of the bank.
He spreads a reckless sail to the wind and rides the turbulent water.
He who throws his doors open and steps onward receives your greeting.
He does not stay to count his gain or to mourn his loss; his heart beats the drum for his march, for that is to march with you every step,
Fellow-traveller!