WHY did he choose
to come to my door, the wandering youth, when the day dawned?
As I come in and
out I pass by him every time, and my eyes are caught by his face.
I know not if I
should speak to him or keep silent. Why did he choose to come to my door?
The cloudy nights
in July are dark; the sky is soft blue in the autumn; the spring days are
restless with the south wind.
He weaves his songs
with fresh tunes every time.
I turn from my work
and my eyes fill with the mist. Why did he choose to come to my door?
22
WHEN she passed by
me with quick steps, the end of her skirt touched me.
From the unknown
island of a heart came a sudden warm breath of spring.
A flutter of a
flitting touch brushed me and vanished in a moment, like a torn flower petal
blown in the breeze.
It fell upon my
heart like a sigh of her body and whisper of her heart.
23
WHY do you sit
there and jingle your bracelets in mere idle sport?
Fill your pitcher.
It is time for you to come home.
Why do you stir the
water with your hands and fitfully glance at the road for someone in mere
idle sport?
Fill your pitcher
and come home.
The morning hours
pass bythe dark water flows on.
The waves are
laughing and whispering to each other in mere idle sport.
The wandering
clouds have gathered at the edge of the sky on yonder rise of the land.
They linger and
look at your face and smile in mere idle sport.
Fill your pitcher
and come home.
24
DO not keep to
yourself the secret of your heart, my friend!
Say it to me, only
to me, in secret.
You who smile so
gently, softly whisper, my heart will hear it, not my ears.
The night is deep,
the house is silent, the birds nests are shrouded with sleep.
Speak to me through
hesitating tears, through faltering smiles, through sweet shame and pain, the
secret of your heart!
25
COME to us, youth,
tell us truly why there is madness in your eyes?
I know not what
wine of wild poppy I have drunk, that there is this madness in my eyes.
Ah, shame!
Well, some are
wise and some foolish, some are watchful and some careless. There are eyes
that smile and eyes that weepand madness is in my eyes.
Youth, why do you
stand so still under the shadow of the tree?
My feet are
languid with the burden of my heart, and I stand still in the shadow.
Ah, shame!
Well, some march
on their way and some linger, some are free and some are fetteredand my feet
are languid with the burden of my heart.
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