THE SUN breaks out from the clouds on the day when I must go. And the sky gazes upon the earth like God's wonder. My heart is sad, for it knows not from where comes its call. Does the breeze bring the whisper of the world which I leave behind with its music of tears melting in the sunny silence? or the breath of the island in the faraway sea basking in the Summer of the unknown flowers?
WHILE I WALK to my King's house at the end of the day the travellers come to ask me- 'What hast thou for King's tribute?' I do not know what to show them or how to answer, for I have merely this song. My preparation is large in my house, where the claim is much and many are the claimants. But when I come to my King's house I have only this single song to offer it for his wreath.