Again the violet bows to the lily.
Again, the rose is tearing off her gown.
The green ones have come from the other world,
tipsy like the breeze up to some new foolishness.
Again, near the top of the mountain
the anemone's sweet features appear.
The hyacinth speaks formally to the jasmine.
Peace be with you. And peace to you, lad.
Come walk with me in the meadow.
The Friend is here like water in the stream,
like a lotus on the water.
The ringdove comes asking, Where,
where is the Friend? With one note
the nightingale indicates the rose.
Many things must be left unsaid because it is late,
but whatever conversation we have not had
tonight, we will have tomorrow.
