Fortune has turned my joy to tears: how oft
did Fortune make me laugh with what she gave!
But for these girls, the Ḳaṭa’s downy brood,
unkindly thrust from door to door as hard,
Far would I roam and wide to seek my bread
in earth that has no lack of breadth and length;
Nay, but our children in our midst, what else
but our hearts are they walking on the ground?
If but the wind blow harsh on one of them,
mine eye says no to slumber all night long.