THE NIGHT was dark when she went away, and they slept. The night is dark now, and I call for her, 'Come back, my darling; the world is asleep; and no one would know, if you came for a moment while stars are gazing at stars.' She went away when the trees were in bud and the spring was young. Now the flowers are in high bloom and I call, 'Come back, my darling. The children gather and scatter flowers in reckless sport. And if you come and take one little blossom no one will miss it.' Those that used to play are playing still, so spendthrift is life. I listen to their chatter and call, 'Come back, my darling, for mother's heart is full to the brim with love, and if you come to snatch only one little kiss from her no one will grudge it'
I WOKE AND found his letter with the morning. I do not know what it says, for I cannot read. I shall leave the wise man alone with his books, I shall not trouble him, for who knows if he can read what the letter says. Let me hold it to my forehead and press it to my heart. When the night grows still and stars come out one by one I will spread it on my lap and stay silent. The rustling leaves will read it aloud to me, the rushing stream will chant it, and the seven wise stars will sing it to me from the sky. I cannot find what I seek, I cannot understand what I would lean but this unread letter has lightened my burdens and turned my though into songs.
