You came and left,
without telling,
without speaking.
What is this coming and going of Yours?

Whatever You had brought with You,
You left it all behind.
You did not even take
that which You had told You would take.

Carrying with me flowers,
I cry today.
I have broken and thrown away
my self-threaded garland.

My offerings of songs however,
I am unable to discard.
In them are contained experiences full of feelings.

Sweetness flows in the flow of tears.
Greenness and freshness have wither in the desert heat.

A mental garland of pearls is being kept threaded.
I shall preserve it within my mind.