That once you gave yourself
Before we met,
I do not quite well know
What song to make.

_From the Burmese (nineteenth century) (? by Asmapur)._




_CAMBODIA_



DISQUIET

Brother, my thought of you
In this letter on a palm-leaf
Goes up about you
As her own scent
Goes up about the rose.

The bracelets on my arms
Have grown too large
Because you went away.

I think the sun of love
Melted the snow of parting,
For the white river of tears has overflowed.