The Song of a Sixteen-Year Old

I heard her sing in joy and abandon In a verdant, vivid vale of Kashmir, An ode to the dawn’n glory of spring. The sky, its clouds and color aflame: The fragrant, resurgence of life anew! On your wings my hopes and dreams! I entreat you, please, do bear with me, Hold me, help me thro’ life, to dance With real love’n joy and insouciance! My heart says the one’ll soon arrive. Call him. I’ve waited years for him With garlands of roses’n lilies, I wove, From branches aswing in a graceful waltz With drops of dew in the morning sun. Paint these my hands with henna red. Coiffure my hair with shining stars For the handsome one. His flute I hear From miles away. The breeze brings me His words of love and enraptures me. My soul longs for him and his love. Call him, my friends. Call him for me!