The scent of the flower woke her up in the morning 

And softly said: Go to the other side of the garden wall.

Behind the thick ivy creeper 

Your lover, alone, carrying your longing in his heart,

Has been waiting for you for a long time. She rose, startled, as if

A wild gazelle was startled from its own sound.

Then she set out towards the garden combing her hair 

With an indifference of someone who goes about

Aimlessly for a walk in the garden, having no wish to meet anyone, 

And recognizing no one except her own shadow.

From somewhere the scent of fresh flowers was the guide; somewhere the breeze;

Only she was on the ground, the munificent Lord was in the highest heaven;

Waving grass, the river flowing softly

Her gait was one which cannot be given a name;

Her hair was a caravan of amber and musk 

Or some floating cloud was riding over the shoulders of the wind;

Flowers and sprigs were all ears to hear something from her;

The dust, holding her feet, encircled her?

In how many places on the road the branches caught hold of her hem

Many times, her head-covering slipped down as she combed her hair;

She bent like a branch, stopped liked imagination, walked coquettishly;

At every step she stumbled in a new way/different way.

.

I, who was sitting there heard the sound, got up

And no sooner did I go forward to take her in my embrace, I woke up.

My feet stumbled; I fell and in this way my eyes 

Opened toward the latter part of the night;

I saw that some of the night’s journey was still left.

I remained sitting and kept seeing 

Minutes melting into hour and days into years; the beautiful moments 

Turned into wounds, then gangrene, then tears.

I remained as I was, as if I was the movement of the compass;

Day and night there kept dancing before me.

A single word written on the tablet of action: No!

.

June 1957

From: Yāden̲ (Remembrances), 1963. pp. 222 – 24