Yu-Pe-Ya’s Dirge For Tse-Ky

DEAD, my beloved! This small purple weed That grows upon thy grave shall have its time To ripen and to wane, to bloom and seed; But thou, strong doer, mightst not wait thy deed, But thou, oh noblest, mightst not wait thy meed: Dead in thy prime! Gone, my beloved! I that held thine hand Left sudden in a joyless waste alone! I tossing on life's sea, and thou to stand Hidden in the shadows of the silent strand. Thou seeing me from where I may not land! Gone from me, gone! Sleep well: but what for me who still must wake? Dream joys: but what for me who can but weep? Oh darkened days where never dawn shall break! Oh weary troth-plight I with sorrow make! But thou, rest peaceful; care not for my sake. Dear, sleep thy sleep.