Flowers at the Shwe Dagon

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Flowers at the Shwe Dagon

Calling out, calling loud, 'Lilies fair!' 

To the pale-haired tourists ascending 

The numerous flights of marble stairs. -  

'Candles and incense!' her voice rings -  

'Roses, red and pink and white!' 

The air is noisy, but spirits light: 

At a carnation she gazes alone,  

Selling flowers at the Shwe Dagon.

'One bouquet, one bouquet,' says a man 

To the dark-haired maiden standing there: 

'A few roses, a few lilies, cut at the stem': 

She picks them out deftly, with explicit care -  

And hands them over to the blue-eyed stranger, 

And knew at once she was in danger -  

She looks at him, she heaves a moan, 

Selling flowers at the Shwe Dagon.

'Some candles, some candles,' detains she: 

'Will you not buy?' her eyes darting swift -  

'Perhaps one packet,' gently smiles he, 

As she hands him the candles, with a wish: 

A profound desire, a pang of reality -  

For no time has she to stoop to fantasies. 

There and then she falls into Love's abode, 

Selling flowers at the Shwe Dagon.

Blue-eyed stranger, true-eyed stranger, walks he by 

Heading towards the stupas and the prayer-places, 

And she, gazing after him, would fain deny 

Her love for him among the powerful faces! 

'Lilies fair!' she calls again, but no one pays her heed: 

Her voice has lost its ring; she does not see the need -  

Anymore. And she looks for him and groans, 

Selling flowers at the Shwe Dagon.

Fair-haired stranger, fair-eyed stranger, walks he by 

Now heading down, down the marble stairs: 

And she, glancing over, heaves a quiet sigh -  

Fain would she weep, fain call out, to dare! 

But she her silence keeps, and turns back to her duty, 

Hiding her eyes, hiding her heart, holding the flowers' beauty: 

And now she calls out, again alone, 

Selling flowers at the Shwe Dagon.

Calling out, calling loud: 'Lilies fair!' 

To the pale-haired tourists ascending 

The numerous flights of marble stairs -  

But she, in quiet despair, is still waiting: 

Waiting for that fair-haired, blue-eyed stranger, 

Holding onto a promise his warm eyes gave her -  

And still she waits, still alone, 

Selling flowers at the Shwe Dagon.

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