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?
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.
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,
I can see nothing before me. I wonder where lies thy path!
By what dim shore of the ink-black river, by what far edge of the frowning forest,
through what mazy depth of gloom art thou threading thy course to come to me, my
If the day is done, if birds sing no more, if the wind has flagged tired, then draw the
veil of darkness thick upon me, even as thou hast wrapt the earth with the coverlet of
sleep and tenderly closed the petals of the drooping lotus at dusk.
From the traveller, whose sack of provisions is empty before the voyage is ended,
whose garment is torn and dustladen, whose strength is exhausted, remove shame and
poverty, and renew his life like a flower under the cover of thy kindly night.