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You lay concealed in my heart I did not see you my lord I did not see you I gazed outside and beyond I did not peer deep within. In all my love, in every hurt, in each new hope You were there beside me, While I never did go to you. You lived as the joy in my play, I remained thus in joyous bliss, Heedless of the passage of time. Remain curled within myself With my songs of sadness and joy, The songs you set to tune yourself But I did not sing your song, my lord
The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day. I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument. The time has not come true, the words have not been rightly set; only there is the agony of wishing in my heart. The blossom has not opened; only the wind is sighing by. I have not seen his face, nor have I listened to his voice; only I have heard his gentle footsteps from the road before my house. The livelong day has passed in spreading his seat on the floor; but the lamp has not been lit and I cannot ask him into my house. I live in the hope of meeting with him; but this meeting is not yet.