His wings glisten like a flower of many colours;
His heart is in love with the blossoms of the kenari,[39]
Certainly he looks for his fragrant sweetheart.
Much joy, my butterfly,—I give you hail!
You will surely find what you seek;
But I am sitting alone near the Djati-wood,
Waiting for what my heart loves:
Long since has the butterfly kissed
The kenari blossom which it loves so well;
But still my soul