man looks down into its eyes with amused affection.
It seems that the two friends meet masked and vaguely know each
other through the disguise.

80

With a glance of your eyes you could plunder all the wealth of
songs struck from poets' harps, fair woman!
But for their praises you have no ear, therefore I come to praise
you.
You could humble at your feet the proudest heads in the world.
But it is your loved ones, unknown to fame, whom you choose to
worship, therefore I worship you.
The perfection of your arms would add glory to kingly splendour
with their touch.
But you use them to sweep away the dust, and to make clean your
humble home, therefore I am filled with awe.

81

Why do you whisper so faintly in my ears, O Death, my Death?
When the flowers droop in the evening and cattle come back to
their stalls, you stealthily come to my side and speak words
that I do not understand.
Is this how you must woo and win me with the opiate of drowsy
murmur and cold kisses, O Death, my Death?

Will there be no proud ceremony for our wedding?
Will you not tie up with a wreath your tawny coiled locks?
Is there none to carry your banner before you, and will not the
night be on fire with your red torch-lights, O Death, my Death?

Come with your conch-shells sounding, come in the sleepless
night.
Dress me with a crimson mantle, grasp my hand and take me.
Let your chariot be ready at my door with your horses neighing
impatiently.
Raise my veil and look at my face proudly, O Death, my Death!

82

We are to play the game of death to-night, my bride and I.
The night is black, the clouds in the sky are capricious, and the
waves are raving at sea.
We have left our bed of dreams, flung open the door and come out,
my bride and I.
We sit upon a swing, and the storm winds give us a wild push from
behind.
My bride starts up with fear and delight, she trembles and clings
to my breast.
Long have I served her tenderly.
I made for her a bed of flowers and I closed the doors to shut
out the rude light from her eyes.
I kissed her gently on her lips and whispered softly in her ears
till she half swooned in languor.
She was lost in the endless mist of vague sweetness.
She answered not to my touch, my songs failed to arouse her.
To-night has come to us the call of the storm from the wild.
My bride has shivered and stood up, she ha