STRAY BIRDS
262
The trembling leaves of this tree touch my heart like the fingers of an infant child.
263
This sadness of my soul is her bride's veil.
It waits to be lifted in the night.
264
The little flower lies in the dust.
It sought the path of the butterfly.
265
I am in the world of the roads.
The night comes. Open thy gate, thou world of the home.
[75]
