WITH HIS morning songs he knocks at our door bringing his greetings of sunrise. With him we take our cattle to the fields and play our flute in the shade. We lose him to find him again and again in the market crowd. In the busy hour of the day we come upon him of a sudden, sitting on the wayside grass. We march when he beats his drum, We dance when he sings. We stake our joys and sorrows to play his game to the end He stands at the helm of our boat, With him we rock on the perilous waves. For him we light our lamp and wait when our day is done.
WHEN MY play was with thee I never questioned who thou wert. I knew nor shyness nor fear, my life was boisterous. In the early morning thou wouldst call me from my sleep like my own comrade and lead me running from glade to glade. On those days I never cared to know the meaning of songs thou sangest to me. Only my voice took up the tunes, and my heart danced in their cadence. Now, when the playtime is over, what is this sudden sight that is come upon me? The world with eyes bent upon thy feet stands in awe with all its silent stars.
