SUR RIP

CANTO I
1
“The pain of the Love O mother!
Has plunged my spirits in sorrow.”
“Know, who His path follow
this pain is pride of their life.”
2
As after rains wantonly sprout up
The weeds upon the earth;
HE’s while awy from my hearth
So do with me the sufferings.
3
What HE had kindled there
That fire still rages within!
O how can it die in,
Whose stirrer is the Love Himself?
4
Spirit won’t stop by coaxing
Nor would be waylaid by words;
Upon path wanders loitering,
And stand shall as tree in dust.
5
As I ‘ld remember so HE ‘ld come
So I shall be Him remembering;
His image in the core of my being
O has abided eer and always.
CANTO II
1
Woes in my secret bein
Are grown into great trees;
Tell not others do I thse,
And meets not me HE, alone.
2
Though they not be quite aright
Naught is wrong still with them;
All their coarse words despite
You cannot live except without them.
3
All reflect their different rays
As mirrors on a silken dress;
Who’re ever in your heart ways
How could you ever forsake them.
4
Ah very cold weathe is come
I’ave not any quilt or plaid
All my youth is passed away
None is friend, nor store I laid;
What could her estate be said
Who’as a straw hut for home.
5
When do winter winds blow
I’ave no with me quilt or plaid;
Only a cloth on my head
O I wrap and pull i all the night.
6
What had potter put in me
And kneaded in my native clay;
Had they ever known of it
O who now the asses bray;
All would perish on this day
And mourning won’t stop here again.
7
Go you learn the love, my friend!
Out from the potter’s kiln;
All day long it burns within,
And not a sigh doth it breathe out.