Your songs, like birds from the lonely land of snow, are winging to build their nests in my heart against the warmth of its April, and I am content to wait for the merry season.
XVI
They knew the way and went to seek you along the narrow lane, but I wandered abroad into the night for I was ignorant.
I was not schooled enough to be afraid of you in the dark, therefore I came upon your doorstep unaware.
The wise rebuked me and bade me be gone, for I had not come by the lane.
I turned away in doubt, but you held me fast, and their scolding became louder every day.
XVII
I brought out my earthen lamp from my house and cried, “Come, children, I will light your path!”
The night was still dark when I returned, leaving the road to its silence, crying, “Light me, O Fire! for my earthen lamp lies broken in the dust!”