The woods are so dark and rich and deep and calling me tonight. "Come out. Come out of the temple and walk amidst our splendor," say the trees. The moon is a white sliver and it rocks me back and forth: "Come out, come out, come out and see the twinkling heavens." The sunset burns the hill it sets behind—so warm, so golden. There has never been such a sunset or such air. Have I ever smelled the air so pure as on this night? So clear, so soft, so fragrant… Ah, but I must wash some dishes for Krishna… In that small task all the wonders of this night are revealed to me. I am so fortunate to be washing Krishna's dishes…
