Listen, mother, br My songs are eyes br Stinging with grains of separation. br In the middle of the night , br They wake and weep for dead friends. br Mother, I cannot sleep. br br Upon them I lay strips of moonlight br Soaked in perfume, br But the pain does not recede. br I foment them br With warm sighs br Yet they turn on me ferociously. br br I am still young, br And need guidance myself. br Who can advise him? br Mother, would you tell him, br To clench his lips when he weeps, br Or the world will hear him cry. br br Tell him, mother, to swallow the bread br Of separation. br He is fated to mourn. br Tell him to lick the salty dew br On the roses of sorrow, br And stay strong. br br Where are the snake handlers br From whom I can beg for a shroud to cover me? br Somebody give me a shroud that will fit! br How can I wait like a jogi br At the doorstep of these people br Greedy for gold? br br Listen, o my pain, br Love is like a butterfly br Pinned forever to a stake. br It is like a bee, br From whom desire, br Stays miles away. br br Love is a palace br Where, but for birds, br Nothing else lives. br Love is a hearth br Where the bed of fulfillment, br Is never laid. br br Mother, tell him not to br Call out the name of his dead friends br So loudly in the middle of the night. br When I am gone, I fear br That this malicious world, br Will say that my songs were evil. br br Listen, o mother br My songs are eyes br Stinging with grains of separation. br In the middle of the night , br They wake and weep for dead friends. br Mother, I cannot sleep.