You turned away from me;
Gurgling streams stood stagnant,
Blooming flowers soon wilted,
Singing birds, could not but scream,
Green boughs turned black and dry,
Raindrops dissolved in the sky,
Roads ended where they stood,
Nights followed nights,
All the world stopped around me;
And I, bewildered like a child,
Stood alone
Not knowing why.
It was I who turned away then.
The streams were turbulent again,
The flowers bloomed as if in spring,
Fragrance spread on the heaving
Bosom of the winds,
Melodies flowed
From they throats of pretty birds,
Green life burst from every bough,
Rainbows criss-crossed in the sky,
Painted by colours breath-taking.
The sun rose to adorn
The earth in its cloak of light
And roads led to promising lands.
I did not hear.
I did not feel.
I did not see.
I stood bewildered still,
As the world whirled about,
Dead, gone and lost to me.
Will you turn to me again?
Will the world live for me?
It does not matter;
I will not know.
To be sought,
I do not seek.