Imagine, mother, that you are to stay at home and I am to travel
into strange lands.
Imagine that my boat is ready at the landing fully laden.
I want to give you something, my child,
for we are drifting in the stream of the world.
Our lives will be carried apart,
and our love forgotten.
When I go alone at night to my love-tryst,
birds do not sing, the wind does not stir,
the houses on both sides of the street stand silent.
AH, these jasmines, these white jasmines!
I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands
with these jasmines, these white jasmines.
It is time for me to go, mother; I am going.
When in the paling darkness of the lonely dawn you stretch out
your arms for your baby in the bed, I shall say, "Baby is not
Let your life come amongst them like a flame of light, my child,
unflickering and pure, and delight them into silence.
They are cruel in their greed and their envy,