My song has put off her adornments.
She has no pride of dress and decoration.
Ornaments would mar our union;
They would come between thee and me;
Their jingling would drown thy whispers.
My poet's vanity dies in shame
Before thy sight.
O master poet,
I have sat down thy feet.
Only let me make my life simple and straight,
Like a flute of reed to fill with music.
She has no pride of dress and decoration.
Ornaments would mar our union;
They would come between thee and me;
Their jingling would drown thy whispers.
My poet's vanity dies in shame
Before thy sight.
O master poet,
I have sat down thy feet.
Only let me make my life simple and straight,
Like a flute of reed to fill with music.
No comments:
Post a Comment