The foolish bird fancied that it was water. 1150
He got no moisture from the gem:
He pecked it with his beak, but it did not wet his palate.
“O thrall of vain desire,” said the diamond,
“Thou hast sharpened thy greedy beak on me;
But I am not a dewdrop, I give no drink, 1155
I do not live for the sake of others.
Wouldst thou hurt me? Thou art mad!
A life that reveals the Self is strange to thee.
My water will shiver the beaks of birds