Waiting

The song I came to singremains unsung to this day.I have spent my days in stringingand in unstringing my instrument.The time has not come true,the words have not been rightly set;only there is the agonyof wishing in my heart…..I have not seen his face,nor have I listened to his voice;only I have heard his gentle footstepsfrom the road before my house…..But the lamp has not been litand I cannot ask him into my house;I live in the hope of meeting with him;but this meeting is not yet.

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