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我一無所求，只站在林邊樹后。
倦意還逗留在黎明的眼上，露潤在空氣里。
濕草的懶味懸垂在地面的薄霧中。
在榕樹下你用乳油般柔嫩的手擠著牛奶。
我沉靜地站立著。
我沒有說出一個字。那是藏起的鳥兒在密葉中歌唱。
芒果樹在村徑上撒著繁花，蜜蜂一只一只地嗡嗡飛來。
池塘邊濕婆天的廟門開了，朝拜者開始誦經。
你把罐兒放在膝上擠著牛奶。
我提著空桶站立著。
我沒有走近你。
天空和廟里的鑼聲一同醒起。
街塵在驅走的牛蹄下飛揚。
把汩汩發響的水瓶摟在腰上，女人們從河邊走來。
你的釧鐲叮當，乳沫溢出罐沿。
晨光漸逝而我沒有走近你。
Languor was still upon the eyes of the dawn, and the dew in the air.
The lazy smell of the damp grass hung in the thin mist above the earth.
Under the banyan tree you were milking the cow with your hands, tender and fresh as butter.
And I was standing still.
I did not say a word. It was the bird that sang unseen from the thicket.
The mango tree was shedding its flowers upon the village road, and the bees came humming one by one.
On the side of the pond the gate of Shiva's temple was opened and the worshipper had begun his chants.
With the vessel on your lap you were milking the cow.
I stood with my empty can.
I did not come near you.
The sky woke with the sound of the gong at the temple.
The dust was raised in the road from the hoofs of the driven cattle.
With the gurgling pitchers at their hips, women came from the river.
Your bracelets were jingling, and foam brimming over the jar.
The morning wore on and I did not come near you.