I asked nothing， only stood at the edge of the wood behind the tree.

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 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.

我一无所求，只站在林边树后。

倦意还逗留在黎明的眼上，露润在空气里。

湿草的懒味悬垂在地面的薄雾中。

在榕树下你用乳油般柔嫩的手挤着牛奶。

我沉静地站立着。

我没有走近你。

天空和庙里的锣声一同醒起。

街尘在驱走的牛蹄下飞扬。

把汩汩发响的水瓶搂在腰上，女人们从河边走来。

你的钏镯丁当，乳沫溢出罐沿。

晨光渐逝而我没有步近你。