THE rain streams down like harp-strings from the sky;
The wind, that world-old harpist, sitteth by;
And ever as he sings his low refrain,
He plays upon the harp-strings of the rain.
ust a changing sea of colour
Surging up and flowing down;
And pagodas shining golden, night and noon;
And a sun-burst-tinted throng
Of young priests that move along
Under sun-burst-hued umbrellas through the town.
That's Rangoon.
Compassion in the world again is bred ;
Ralphius is sick, the broker keeps his bed.
Rain passes, washing the face of the mountain.
Clouds come, the mountain's in a dream.
Clouds and rain come and go as they please.
Only the mountain, forever green, remains.
a symphony orchestra.
'Raging winter wind
Let loose in springtime
What is the message your cold touch brings?'
Spite of days and dreams,
Warm and easy and sublime,
Terror crouches always at the heart of things.
Why this man gelded Martial I muse,
Except himself alone his tricks would use,
As Katherine, for the court's sake, put down stews.
रच्छहु निज भुज तर सह साजा ।
सब समर्थ राजन के राजा ।
अलख राज कर सब बल-खानी ।
बिनय सुनहु बिनवत सब कोई ।
पूरब सों पच्छिम लौं जोई ।
राजभक्त-गन इक मन होई ।
हे प्रभु रच्छहु श्री महरानी ।
Raad Wilm i sine Breve sender meget Sand,
Som Rigsforretningshjulet vilde staae paa Stand,
Hvis han dem Tid at tørres gav;
O Forfængeligheds Bedrag!
Hans Breve ere af Natur tørre.
I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.
