Friendship

And a youth said, "Speak to us of Friendship."

Your friend is your needs answered.

He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.

And he is your board and your fireside.

For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.

When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay."

And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;

For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.

When you part from your friend, you grieve not;

For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.

And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.

For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.

And let your best be for your friend.

If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.

For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?

Seek him always with hours to live.

For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.

And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.

For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

The poem is taken from 'The Prophet' a famous scholary work of Kahlil Gibran.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

"Invictus" is a short poem by the English poet William Ernest Henley (1849–1903).

My ancestors

You said
The Shudra is born from the feet of Brahma
And the Brahmin from his head
And they did not ask you
Where was Brahma born from?

You said
Service is the duty of the Shudra
They did not ask
What will you give for it?

You were happy
You now had slaves
They were happy too
Happy for you
They had put all their power
In your hands.

The body unclothed
The stomach unfed
Hurt, and yet
They smiled
For they saw you smiled.

They did not know
How to loot
The weak and the innocent!

Did not know
That murder
Is the badge of courage
That robbery is not a crime
It is but culture.

How innocent they were
My ancestors
Humane
Yet untouchable

- By Dalit poet and fiction writer, Omprakash Valmiki ; Translated from the Hindi by Pratik Kanjilal. [Source]