ON THAT NIGHT when the storm broke open my door. I did not know that you entered my room through the ruins, For the lamp was blown out, and it became dark; I stretched my arms to the sky in search of help. I lay on the dust waiting in the tumultuous dark and I knew not that storm was your own banner. When the morning came I saw you standing upon the emptiness that was spread over my house.
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.