YOU CAME TO me in the wayward hours of spring with flute songs and flowers. You troubled my heart from ripples into waves, rocking the red lotus of love. You asked me to come out with you into the secret of life. But I fell asleep among the murmurous leaves of May. When I woke the cloud gathered in the sky and the dead leaves flitted in the wind. Through the patter of rain I hear your nearing footsteps and the cry to come out with you into the secret of death. I walk to your side and put my hand into yours, while your eyes burn and water drips from your hair.
PUT OUT THE lamps, my heart, the lamps of your lonely night. The call comes to you to open your doors, for the morning light is abroad. Leave your lute in the corner, my heart, the lute of your lonely life. The call comes to you to come out in silence, for the morning sings your own songs.