After a light shower, i listen to a cold cricket grief against the eave.
Amidst flowers, a chilled wind whistle and drive
Beyond the fence tangled with creepers
Toads, frogs and strange birds quarrel in whispers
But hands in sleeves; I still remain indoors absorbed in books.
By the fragrant couch is a steam -full cup
Before me and on the white wall is calendar hang up;
Legwarmers in feet, scarf coiled against my neck
How cannot I admire your marvelous skills in needle work?
My yearnings for you spread infinitely like source less brooks!
Through the eastern half-way shut window
Thick billows with few dews wet my small pillow.
Look, look columns of towers are out of view
In vain I peep through the blur panes for you;
My heart would break in to two
Crystallized tears seen peeling off the dashing screen set on twin copper hooks