Have you forgotten, my love,
Once you used to sit in my bower
And covered yourself in flowers?
It has not been forgotten
By the stream that flows by
Its winding current
Reminds me of your braided hair,
Your foot prints still its banks bear.
Don't they have any meaning at all
Have you forgotten them today?
In those days sitting alone
The songs you used to sing
Still they echo on the grassy plain
Still in the air their tunes ring.
In the shades of the bower
The scarf on which you spread the flowers
In garlands to string
Seeking its soft touch that stirs the heart
The maddened spring wanders
Among the champa flowers.
