s more than that of others, that is why you are
silent.
With playful carelessness you avoid my gifts.
I know, I know your art,
You never will take what you would.

36

He whispered, "My love, raise your eyes."
I sharply chid him, and said "Go!"; but he did not stir.
He stood before me and held both my hands. I said, "Leave me!";
but he did not go.

He brought his face near my ear. I glanced at him and said,
"What a shame!"; but he did not move.
His lips touched my cheek. I trembled and said, "You dare too
much;" but he had no shame.

He put a flower in my hair. I said, "It is useless!"; but he
stood unmoved.
He took the garland from my neck and went away. I weep and ask
my heart, "Why does he not come back?"

37

Would you put your wreath of fresh flowers on my neck, fair one?
But you must know that the one wreath that I had woven is for the
many, for those who are seen in glimpses, or dwell in lands
unexplored, or live in poets' songs.

It is too late to ask my heart in return for yours.
There was a time when my life was like a bud, all its perfume was
stored in its core.
Now it is squandered far and wide.
Who knows the enchantment that can gather and shut it up again?
My heart is not mine to give to one only, it is given to the
many.

38

My love, once upon a time your poet launched a great epic in his
mind.
Alas, I was not careful, and it struck your ringing anklets and
came to grief.
It broke up into scraps of songs and lay scattered at your feet.
All my cargo of the stories of old wars was tossed by the
laughing waves and soaked in tears and sank.
You must make this loss good to me, my love.
If my claims to immortal fame after death are shattered, make me
immortal while I live.
And I will not mourn for my loss nor blame you.

39

I try to weave a wreath all the morning, but the flowers slip and
they drop out.
You sit there watching me in secret through the corner of your
prying eyes.
Ask those eyes, darkly planning mischief, whose fault it was.

I try to sing a song, but in vain.
A hidden smile trembles on your lips, ask of it the reason of my
failure.
Let your smiling lips say on oath how my voice lost itself in
silence like a drunken bee in the lotus.

It is evening, and the time for the flowers to close their
petals.
Give me leave to sit by your side, and bid my