I caught a glimpse of the lady
I would love eternally,
Retained in the shape of a bather
In a photo reflecting the sea.
The sacred four-horned oxen
Walked on stones in my heart,
I prayed I may evaporate,
And fall into her arms.
As my quiet prayer was calling,
Deathly forests distracted me;
From clouds I started my descent,
Ended in your memory.
In one such forest’s fated clearing
A brook of crystal waters dried,
A spring to feed the falling prayers,
A place of rest for a bride.
The clouds merged in to mountains,
Mountains gave birth to the sea,
If only longer I’d waited,
And brought an end to all misery.