I NEGLECTED to appraise your worth being blindly sure of my possession. The days followed each other and the nights carrying your offerings to my feet. I looked at them through the corner of my eyes as they were being sent to my storehouse. April's honeysuckles added their scent to your gifts, the full moon of the autumn night touched them with its glimmer. Often you poured the flood of your dark tresses upon my lap and your eyes swam with tears while you said: My tribute to you, my king, is pitifully meagre; I have failed to give you more, not having any more to give. The days follow each other and the nights but you are no longer here today. I come to open at last my storehouse, and take up the chain of the jewels, that came from your hands on my neck. My pride that remained indifferent kisses the dust where you left your footprints. Today I gain you truly for with my sorrow I have paid the price of your love.
YOU ALWAYS stand alone beyond the stream of my songs. The waves of my tunes wash your feet but I know not how to reach them. This play of mine with you is a play from afar. It is the pain of separation that melts into melody through my flute. I wait for the time when your boat crosses over to my shore and you take my flute into your own hands.