my heart and dragged my
trembling love into the open place, destroying for ever the
shady corner where it hid its nest.

The other women are the same as ever.
No one has peeped into their inmost being, and they themselves
know not their own secret.
Lightly they smile, and weep, chatter, and work. Daily they go
to the temple, light their lamps, and fetch water from the
river.

I hoped my love would be saved from the shivering shame of the
shelterless, but you turn your face away.
Yes, your path lies open before you, but you have cut off my
return, and left me stripped naked before the world with its
lidless eyes staring night and day.

57

I plucked your flower, O world!
I pressed it to my heart and the thorn pricked.
When the day waned and it darkened, I found that the flower had
faded, but the pain remained.

More flowers will come to you with perfume and pride, O world!
But my time for flower-gathering is over, and through the dark
night I have not my rose, only the pain remains.

58

One morning in the flower garden a blind girl came to offer me a
flower chain in the cover of a lotus leaf.
I put it round my neck, and tears came to my eyes.
I kissed her and said, "You are blind even as the flowers are.
You yourself know not how beautiful is your gift."

59

O woman, you are not merely the handiwork of God, but also of
men; these are ever endowing you with beauty from their hearts.
Poets are weaving for you a web with threads of golden imagery;
painters are giving your form ever new immortality.
The sea gives its pearls, the mines their gold, the summer
gardens their flowers to deck you, to cover you, to make you
more precious.
The desire of men's hearts has shed its glory over your youth.
You are one half woman and one half dream.

60

Amidst the rush and roar of life, O Beauty, carved in stone, you
stand mute and still, alone and aloof.
Great Time sits enamoured at your feet and murmurs:
"Speak, speak to me, my love; speak, my bride!"
But your speech is shut up in stone, O Immovable Beauty!

61

Peace, my heart, let the time for the parting be sweet.
Let it not be a death but completeness.
Let love melt into memory and pain into songs.
Let the flight through the sky end in the folding of the wings
over the nest.
Let the last touch of your hands be gentle like the flower of the