KONDA died—his mother’s only offspring.
O what grief was hers the youth to bury
Far away from his own natural dwelling!
So she bore him to a verdant garden,
And ’neath gold pomegranate trees interr’d him.
Every, every day she wandered thither:
“Doth the earth, sweet son, lie heavy on thee?
Heavy are the planks of maple round thee?”
From his grave the voice of Konda answers:
“Lightly presses the green earth upon me,
Lightly press the planks of maple round me.
Heavy is the virgins’ malediction;
When they sigh, their sighs reach God’s high presence;
When they curse, the world begins to tremble;
When they weep, even God is touch’d with pity.”