songs.
The waves of my tunes wash your feet but I know not how to reach them.
This play of mine with you is a play from afar.
It is the pain of separation that melts into melody through my flute.
I wait for the time when your boat crosses over to my shore and you take my flute into your own hands.
LXVIII
Suddenly the window of my heart flew open this morning, the window that looks out on your heart.
I wondered to see that the name by which you know me is written in April leaves and flowers, and I sat silent.
The curtain was blown away for a moment between my songs and yours.
I found that your morning light was full of my own mute songs unsung; I thought that I would learn them at your feet—and I sat silent.
LXIX
You were in the centre of my heart, therefore when my heart wandered she never found you; you hid yourself from my loves and hopes till the last, for you were always in them.
You were the inmost joy in the play of my youth, and when I was too busy with the play the joy was passed by.
You sang to me in the ecstasies of my life and I forgot to sing to you.
LXX
When you hold your lamp in the sky it throws its light on my face and its shadow falls over you.
When I hold the lamp of love in my heart its light falls on you and I am left standing behind in the shadow.
LXXI
O the waves, the sky-devouring waves, glistening with light, dancing with life, the waves of eddying joy, rushing for ever.
The stars rock upon them, thoughts of every tint are cast up out of the deep and scattered on the beach of life.
Birth and death rise and fall with their rhythm, and the sea-gull of my heart spreads its wings crying in delight.
LXXII
The joy ran from all the world to build my body.
The lights of the skies kissed and kissed her till she woke.
Flowers of hurrying summers sighed in her breath and voices of winds and water sang in her movements.
The passion of the tide of colours in clouds and in forests flowed into her life, and the music of all things caressed her limbs into shape.
She is my bride,—she has lighted her lamp in my house.
LXXIII
The spring with its leaves and flowers has come into my body.
The bees hum there the morning long, and the winds idly play with the shadows.
A sweet fountain springs up from the heart of my heart.
My eyes are washed with delight like the dew-bathed morning, and life is quivering in all my limbs like the sounding strings of the lute.
Are you wandering alone by the shore of my life, where the tide is in flood, O lover of my endless days?
Are my dreams flitting round you like the moths with their many-coloured wings?
And are those your songs that are echoing in the dark eaves of my being?
Who but you can hear the hum of the crowded hours that sounds in my veins to-day, the glad steps that dance in my breast, the clamour of the restless life beating its wings in my body?
LXXIV
My bonds are cut, my debts are paid, my door has been opened, I go everywhere.
They crouch in their corner and weave their web of pale hours, they count their coins sitting in the dust and call me back.
But my sword is forged, my armour is put on, my horse is eager to run.
I shall win my kingdom.
LXXV
It was only the other day that I came to your earth, naked and nameless, with a wailing cry.
To-day my voice is glad, while you, my lord, stand aside to make room that I may fill my life.
Even when I bring you my songs for an offering I have the secret hope that men will come and love me for them.
You love to discover that I love this world where you have brought me.
LXXVI
Timidly I cowered in the shadow of safety, but now, when the surge of joy carries my heart upon its crest, my heart clings to the cruel rock of its trouble.
I sat alone in a corner of my house thinking it too narrow for any guest, but now when its door is flung open by an unbidden joy I find there is room for thee and for all the world.
I walked upon tiptoe, careful of my person, perfumed, and adorned—but now when a glad whirlwind has overthrown me in the dust I laugh and roll on the earth at thy feet like a child.
LXXVII
