Shining ones, awake, we seek your chosen temples
In caves and sheltering sandhills and sacred banyan roots;
O lift your dreaming heads from their trance of ageless wisdom
And weave your mystic measures to the melody of flutes.
In caves and sheltering sandhills and sacred banyan roots;
O lift your dreaming heads from their trance of ageless wisdom
And weave your mystic measures to the melody of flutes.

And cherish our dear vision like the jewels in your crests;
O spread your hooded watch for the safety of our slumbers
And soothe the troubled longing that clamor in our breast.
Swift are ye as streams and soundless as the dewfall
Subtle as the lightning and splendid as the sun.
Seers are ye and symbols of the ancient silence,
Where life and death and sorrow and ecstasy are one.
Subtle as the lightning and splendid as the sun.
Seers are ye and symbols of the ancient silence,
Where life and death and sorrow and ecstasy are one.
Sarojini Naidu
Excerpts from poem titled – The festival of serpents by Sarojini Naidu