Mother, the light has grown grey in the sky; I do not know what the time is. There is no fun in my play, so I have come to you. It is Saturday, our holiday. Leave off your work, mother; sit here by the window and tell me where the desert of Tepantar in the fairy tale is. The shadow of the rains has covered the day from end to end. The fierce lightning is scratching the sky with its nails. When the clouds rumble and it thunders, ...

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Say of him what you please, but I know my child's failings. I do not love him because he is good, but because he is my little child. How should you know how dear he can be when you try to weigh his merits against his faults? When I must punish him he becomes all the more a part of my being. When I cause his tears to come my heart weeps with him. I alone have a right to blame and punish, for he only may chastise who ...

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I long to go over there to the further bank of the river. Where those boats are tied to the bamboo poles in a line; Where men cross over in their boats in the morning with ploughs on their shoulders to till their far-away fields; Where the cowherds make their lowing cattle swim across to the riverside pasture; Whence they all come back home in the evening, leaving the jackals to howl in the island overgrown with weeds. Mother, if you don't mind, I should like to become ...

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