Look how the mustard fields
blaze across the meadows!
The mango buds are opening—
look,
the flowers seem to be
spreading wings,
branch upon branch alive with
birdsong—what a festival!
The young girl sits
with all her ornaments in hand,
the gardener’s daughter brings
baskets of flowers,
blossoms of every hue swaying
splendid in everyone’s hands!
Everyone has come.
Only the one who promised
to come when spring arrived
hasn’t come!
How many days have passed,
months spent, years turned,
perhaps centuries—
yet still no sign of her!
Will she ever come?