The tide is back in the river but where are you?
The window and door I keep open and wait for you.
Through the opening in the back-berry branches the cuckoo
watches me and cries
But why even to-day I can’t see any trace of your boat.
I’ve dressed up with a hair-do and lighted an earthen-lamp
Your sisters smile provokingly at me, I’m suffused with
shame.
On the monsoon-night the pattering rain puts me in a pensive
mood
The field, my friend, is filled up with my tears.
Reading Time: < 1 minute
