THE RAINDROPS kissed the earth and whispered,'We are thy homesick children, mother, come back to thee from the heaven.'

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.

I WAS WITH THE crowd when I was in the road;
Where the road ends I find myself alone with you.
I knew not when my day dimmed into dusk and my companions left me.
I knew not when your doors opened and I stood surprised at my own heart's music.
But are there still traces of tears in my eyes though the bed is made, the lamp is lit, and we are alone, you and I?