i wander to the house of the one i love
where the plum tree brushes the eaves.
dripping with blossom and with leaves
the dew lies in the white flowers,
lies there in the gentle hours.
i watch sparrows from the flower-cups drink.
singing of my love makes me think.
how do you go to your love’s house?
on the night-wind, with wings.
what calls you to your lover’s house?
everything fine that sings.
how many roads lead to your lover’s house?
more roads than sand.
which is the best road to your lover’s house?
all the roads in the land.