Garden music

A blast of finger-cymbals clashing rhythmically

Punctuates the silence of the rose gardens,

While at the end of fragrant, secret orchards

A flute pours out its liquid lamentation.

The melody, with silver cymbal-hissing

Shifts between saddening and becoming joyful;

Now shining with flickering, flaring light,

Now casting long sorrowful shadows:

Ringing finger-cymbals and many-sounding pipes!

A joy of songs unexpressed

for you gushes forth from the orchards,

And at the top of the rosebushes, that weave garlands

At the heart of the intimate nooks,

The roses open like soft mouths!