Your shepherds are sleeping, O king of Assyria;Your nobles are lying down Your people are scattered on the mountains And there is no one to regather them.
I mixed the white petals with mother’s cremains and then walked over to the mountain slope at the back of our garden then scattered them into the breeze.
My hopes rose high and methought my evil days were at an end, and I stood waiting for alms to be given unasked and for wealth scattered on all sides in the dust.