And now I talk so fev'rishly, instead
Of counting all the leaves upon that tree.
Oh! I have finished much too soon again.
See! See the yeoman, calling to his dog.
The shadows do upon his garden fall,
For him the night has come, but brings no joy;
He fears it, locks his door and is alone.--
See where the maidens wander to the well.
I know the manner in which each of them
Will fill her bucket--that one's prettiest.
Why does the stranger at the cross roads stay?
Distant's his goal, I warrant. He unwinds
And folds again the cloth about his feet.
What an existence! Draw the thorns, yes, draw
Them quickly out. You must speed. We all
Must hurry on, the restless day must down
And with it take this bright and scarlet glow
That's lingering in radiance on my cheeks.
All that is troubling us cast far away,
Fling wide the thorn into the field
Where waters flow and sheaves of brilliant flow'rs
Are bending, glowing, yearning towards the night.--
I draw my rings from off my fingers, and
They're happy as the naked children are
Who scamper quickly to the brook to bathe.--
Now all the girls have gone--
Only one maiden's left. Oh, what lovely hair!
I wonder if she knows its beauty's power?
Perhaps she's vain--but vanity, thou art
A plaything only for the empty years.
When once she has arrived where I am now,
She'll love her hair, she'll let it clasp her close,
Enwrap her round and whisper to her low,
Like echoing harpstrings throbbing with the touch
Of fev'rish fingers straying in the dark.
[_She loosens her hair and lets it fall to the left and to the
right in front of her._]
What, would you close to me? Down, down with you.--
I bid you greet him. When the dusk has come,
And when his hands hold fast the ladder there
A-sudden he will feel, instead the leaves,
The cool, firm leaves, a gently spraying rain,
A rain that falls at eve from golden clouds.
[_She lets her hair fall over the balustrade._]
You are so long, and yet you barely reach
A third the distance; hardly are your ends
Touching the cold, white marble lion's nose.
[_She laughs and rises._]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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