Kan-il-Lak the Singer |
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desired! Thine eyes speak gifts But thy hands are empty. Thy lips draw me Like morning's flame on a song-bird's wing. I follow -- but thy kiss is denied. I am a hunter alone in a forest of silence. Under what bough Are the warm wings of thy kiss folded? Amid the scent of berries drying From my high roof I have seen the dusky sea Trip rustlingly along the sand-floors, In little moccasins of silver, moon-broidered with shells of longing. Ah, thy little moccasins, Nak-Ku! But thy feet recede from me like ebbing tides. I have closed my door: The heavy cedar-blanket hangs before it. Since thou comest not, Better that my narrow pine couch seem wide as a winter field. The moon makes silver shadows on my floor through the poplars. The wind rustles the leaves, Swaying the boughs o'er the smoke-hole; The little silver shadows run toward my couch-- Ah-hi, Nak-Ku! I hear the pattering of women on the sand-paths: Fluttered laughs, bird-whisperings before my lodge-- "Oh lover, lover!" Brave little fingers tap upon the cedar-blanket. But I do not open my door-- Better this grief! I am thy poet, Nak-Ku, Faithful to her who has given me Dreams! NAK-KU ANSWERS I have given dreams to Kan-il-Lak, the singer! Oh, what care I, Kan-il-Lak, Though thy hut be full of witches, Thy lips' melody flown before their kisses? Know I not that all women Must to the singer bring their gifts? Know I not that to the singer comes at last His hour of gift-judging? I will lie, like a moonbeam, in thy heart. A hundred gifts shall fall regarded not: But where among the dust of forgetfulness The one pearl shell is found-- Pure, faint-flushed with longing, The deeps no man has seen Brimming its lyric mouth with mystical murmurs-- There shalt thou pause And render me thy song! Lawa Elipsa Krzeslo Biurowe Kociol Ekogroszek Silikon Sanitarny Strop Akermana Cuisines of the World Weddings Jobs Phones Furnishings |