See, mirror, here's my face again,
soft as a rose's petal.
Should I surprise him tonight,
show up like a painted lady?
How can he make it through the day,
not seeing me as you do?.
My horse neighs to leave
My horse neighs to leave here now, but you plead with me to stay;
the sun is dipping behind the hill, and I have far to go.
Dear One, instead of stopping me, why not hold back the setting sun.
My body, in its withering
My body, in its withering, may become a lovely swallow.
Under the eaves of my loved one's home I'll build my nest of twigs.
After dusk I'll fly aloft and glide gently to his side.
A drum beats in the far temple
A drum beats in the far temple; I think it's in the clouds.
Is it above the meadow and hill, perhaps below the sky?
Something sends a veil of mist, I cannot heed the drum.