14.
My desires are many and my cry is pitiful, but ever didst thou save me
by hard refusals; and this strong mercy has been wrought into my life
through and through.
Day by day thou art making me worthy of the simple, great gifts that
thou gavest to me unasked—this sky and the light, this body and the
life and the mind—saving me from perils of overmuch desire.
There are times when I languidly linger and times when I awaken and
hurry in search of my goal; but cruelly thou hidest thyself from before
me.
Day by day thou art making me worthy of thy full acceptance by refusing
me ever and anon, saving me from perils of weak, uncertain desire.
15.
I am here to sing thee songs. In this hall of thine I have a corner
seat.
In thy world I have no work to do; my useless life can only break out
in tunes without a purpose.
When the hour strikes for thy silent worship at the dark temple of
midnight, command me, my master, to stand before thee to sing.
When in the morning air the golden harp is tuned, honour me, commanding
my presence.
16.
I have had my invitation to this world’s festival, and thus my life has
been blessed. My eyes have seen and my ears have heard.
It was my part at this feast to play upon my instrument, and I have
done all I could.
Now, I ask, has the time come at last when I may go in and see thy face
and offer thee my silent salutation?
17.
I am only waiting for love to give myself up at last into his hands.
That is why it is so late and why I have been guilty of such omissions.
They come with their laws and their codes to bind me fast; but I evade
them ever, for I am only waiting for love to give myself up at last
into his hands.
People blame me and call me heedless; I doubt not they are right in
their blame.
The market day is over and work is all done for the busy. Those who
came to call me in vain have gone back in anger. I am only waiting for
love to give myself up at last into his hands.
18.
Clouds heap upon clouds and it darkens. Ah, love, why dost thou let me
wait outside at the door all alone?
In the busy moments of the noontide work I am with the crowd, but on
this dark lonely day it is only for thee that I hope.
If thou showest me not thy face, if thou leavest me wholly aside, I
know not how I am to pass these long, rainy hours.
I keep gazing on the far-away gloom of the sky, and my heart wanders
wailing with the restless wind.
19.
If thou speakest not I will fill my heart with thy silence and endure
it. I will keep still and wait like the night with starry vigil and its
head bent low with patience.
The morning will surely come, the darkness will vanish, and thy voice
pour down in golden streams breaking through the sky.
Then thy words will take wing in songs from every one of my birds’
nests, and thy melodies will break forth in flowers in all my forest
groves.
20.
On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind was straying, and I
knew it not. My basket was empty and the flower remained unheeded.
Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up from my
dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange fragrance in the south wind.
That vague sweetness made my heart ache with longing and it seemed to
me that is was the eager breath of the summer seeking for its
completion.
I knew not then that it was so near, that it was mine, and that this
perfect sweetness had blossomed in the depth of my own heart.
21.
I must launch out my boat. The languid hours pass by on the shore—Alas
for me!
The spring has done its flowering and taken leave. And now with the
burden of faded futile flowers I wait and linger.
The waves have become clamorous, and upon the bank in the shady lane
the yellow leaves flutter and fall.
What emptiness do you gaze upon! Do you not feel a thrill passing
through the air with the notes of the far-away song floating from the
other shore?
22.
In the deep shadows of the rainy July, with secret steps, thou walkest,
silent as night, eluding all watchers.
Today the morning has closed its eyes, heedless of the insistent calls
of the loud east wind, and a thick veil has been drawn over the
ever-wakeful blue sky.
The woodlands have hushed their songs, and doors are all shut at every
house. Thou art the solitary wayfarer in this deserted street. Oh my
only friend, my best beloved, the gates are open in my house—do not
pass by like a dream.
23.
Art thou abroad on this stormy night on thy journey of love, my friend?
The sky groans like one in despair.
I have no sleep tonight. Ever and again I open my door and look out on
the darkness, my friend!