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.
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