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The room, lit by a sweetly burning lamp
Below, on the floor, a peacock feather flutters
The cradle of white silk tied by mother sways
Gently in the refreshing breeze
And the child, is he asleep, I cannot see from here
The wind that rocks the silken folds is fragrant with sandal
All I can see is a dear little foot, dark as the deep blue cloud
And the flash, like lightning, of the golden little anklet
How I long to go nearer, yet I cannot.
I wait forever outside this window, beyond eternity.