IN THE EVENING after they have brought their cattle home, they sit on the grass before their huts to know that you are among them unseen, to repeat in their songs the name which they have fondly given you. While kings' crowns shine and disappear like falling stars, around village huts your name rises through the still night from the simple heal of your lovers whose names are unrecorded.
MY EYES HAVE lost their sleep, in watching; yet if I do not meet thee still it is sweet to watch. My heart sits in the shadow of the rains waiting for thy love; if she is deprived still it is sweet to hope. They walk away in their different paths leaving me behind; if I am alone still it is sweet to listen for thy footsteps. The wistful face of the earth weaving its autumn mists wakens longing in my heart; if it is in vain still it is sweet to feel the pain of longing.