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 lips to do the work
  that can be done in silence and in the dim light of stars.

40


An unbelieving smile flits on your eyes when I come to you to
  take my leave.
I have done it so often that you think I will soon return.
To tell you the truth I have the same doubt in my mind.
For the spring days come again time after time; the full moon
  takes leave and comes on another visit, the flowers come again
  and blush upon their branches year after year, and it is likely
  that I take my leave only to come to you again.
But keep the illusion awhile; do not send it away with ungentle
  haste.
When I say I leave you for all time, accept it as true, and let a
  mist of tears for one moment deepen the dark rim of your eyes.
Then smile as archly as you like when I come again.

41


I long to speak the deepest words I have to say to you; but I
  dare not, for fear you should laugh.
That is why I laugh at myself and shatter my secret in jest.
I make light of my pain, afraid you should do so.

I long to tell you the truest words I have to say to you; but I
  dare not, being afraid that you would not believe them.
That is why I disguise them in untruth, saying the contrary of
  what I mean.
I make my pain appear absurd, afraid that you should do so.

I long to use the most precious words I have for you; but I dare
  not, fearing I should not be paid with like value.
That is why I gave you hard names and boast of my callous
  strength.
I hurt you, for fear you should never know any pain.

I long to sit silent by you; but I dare not lest my heart come
  out at my lips.
That is why I prattle and chatter lightly and hide my heart
  behind words.
I rudely handle my pain, for fear you should do so.

I long to go away from your side; but I dare not, for fear my
  cowardice should become known to you.
That is why I hold my head high and carelessly come into your
  presence.
Constant thrusts from your eyes keep my pain fresh for ever.

42


O mad, superbly drunk;
If you kick open your doors and play the fool in public;
If you empty your bag in a night, and snap your fingers at
  prudence;
If you walk in curious paths and play with useless things;
Reck not rhyme or reason;
If unfurling your sails before the storm you snap the rudder in
  two,
Then I will follow you, comrade, and be drunken and go to the
  dogs.

I have wasted my days and nights in the company of steady wise
  neighbours.
Much knowing has turned my hair grey, and much watching has made
  my sight dim.
For years I have gathered and heaped up scraps and fragments of
  things;
Crush them and dance upon them, and scatter them all to the
  winds.
For I know 'tis the height of wisdom to be drunken and go to the
  dogs.

Let all crooked scruples vanish, let me hopelessly lose my way.
Let a gust of wild giddiness come and sweep me away from my
  anchors.
The world is peopled with worthies, and workers, useful and
  clever.
There are men who are easily first, and men who come decently
  after.
Let them be happy and prosper, and let me be foolishly futile.
For I know 'tis the end of all works to be drunken and go to the
  dogs.

I swear to surrender this moment all claims to the ranks of the
  decent.
I let go my pride of learning and judgment of right and of wrong.
I'll shatter memory's vessel, scattering the last drop of tears.
With the foam of the berry-red wine I will bathe and brighten my
  laughter.
The badge of the civil and staid I'll tear into shreds for the
  nonce.
I'll take the holy vow to be worthless, to be drunken and go to
  the dogs.

43


No, my friends, I shall never be an ascetic, whatever you may say.
I shall never be an ascetic if she does not take the vow with me.
It is my firm resolve that if I cannot find a shady shelter and a
  companion for my penance, I shall never turn ascetic.

No, my friends, I shall never leave my hearth and home, and
  retire into the forest solitude, if rings no merry laughter in
  its echoing shade and if the end of no saffron mantle flutters
  in the wind; if its silence is not deepened by soft whispers.
I shall never be an ascetic.

44


Reverend sir, forgive this pair of sinners.  Spring winds to-day
  are blowing in wild eddies, driving dust and dead leaves away,
  and with them your lessons are all lost.
Do not say, father, that life is a vanity.
For we have made truce with death for once, and only for a few
  fragrant hours we two have been made immortal.

Even if the king's army came and fiercely fell upon us we should
  sadly shake our heads and say, Brothers, you are disturbing us.
  If you must have this noisy game, go and clatter your arms
  elsewhere.  Since only for a few fleeting moments we have been
  made immortal.

If friendly people came and flocked around us, we should humbly
  bow to them and say, This extravagant good fortune is an
  embarrassment to us.  Room is scarce in the infinite sky where
  we dwell.  For in the springtime flowers come in crowds, and
  the busy wings of bees jostle each other.  Our little heaven,
  where dwell only we two immortals, is too absurdly narrow.

45


To the guests that must go bid God's speed and brush away all
  traces of their steps.
Take to your bosom with a smile what is easy and simple and near.
To-day is the festival of phantoms that know not when they die.
Let your laughter be but a meaningless mirth like twinkles of
  light on the ripples.
Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time like dew on the
  tip of a leaf.
Strike in chords from your harp fitful momentary rhythms.

46


You left me and went on your way.
I thought I should mourn for you and set your solitary image in
  my heart wrought in a golden song.
But ah, my evil fortune, time is short.

Youth wanes year after year; the spring days are fugitive; the
  frail flowers die for nothing, and the wise man warns me that
  life is but a dew-drop on the lotus leaf.
Should I neglect all this to gaze after one who has turned her
  back on me?
That would be rude and foolish, for time is short.

Then, come, my rainy nights with pattering feet; smile, my golden
  autumn; come, careless April, scattering your kisses abroad.
You come, and you, and you also!
My loves, you know we are mortals.  Is it wise to break one's
  heart for the one who takes her heart away?  For time is short.

It is sweet to sit in a corner to muse and write in rhymes that
  you are all my world.
It is heroic to hug one's sorrow and determine not to be
  consoled.
But a fresh face peeps across my door and raises its eyes to my
  eyes.
I cannot but wipe away my tears and change the tune of my song.
For time is short.

47


If you would have it so, I will end my singing.
If it sets your heart aflutter, I will take away my eyes from
  your face.
If it suddenly startles you in your walk, I will step aside and
  take another path.
If it confuses you in your flower-weaving, I will shun your
  lonely garden.
If it makes the water wanton and wild, I will not row my boat by
  your bank.