Unfelt unheard, unseen, I've left my little queen, Her languid arms in silver slumber lying: Ah! through their nestling touch, Who---who could tell how much There is for madness---cruel, or complying? Those faery lids how sleek! Those lips how moist!---they speak, In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds: Into my fancy's ear Melting a burden dear, How "Love doth know no fulness, nor no bounds." True!---tender monitors! I bend unto your laws: This sweetest day for dalliance was born! So, without more ado, I'll feel my heaven anew, For all the blushing of the hasty morn. ...

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Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines! I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with these jasmines, these white jasmines. I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth; I have heard the liquid murmur of the river thorough the darkness of midnight; Autumn sunsets have come to me at the bend of a road in the lonely waste, like a bride raising her veil to accept her lover. Yet my memory is still sweet with the first white jasmines that I held ...

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Day by day I float my paper boats one by one down the running stream. In bid black letters I write my name on them and the name of the village where I live. I hope that someone in some strange land will find them and know who I am. I load my little boats with shiuli flower from our garden, and hope that these blooms of the dawn will be carried safely to land in the night. I launch my paper boats and look up into the sky ...

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