Waiting

The song I came to sing

remains unsung to this day.

I have spent my days in stringing

and in unstringing my instrument.

The time has not come true,

the words have not been rightly set;

only there is the agony

of wishing in my heart…..

I have not seen his face,

nor have I listened to his voice;

only I have heard his gentle footsteps

from the road before my house…..

But the lamp has not been lit

and I cannot ask him into my house;

I live in the hope of meeting with him;