In a misty dream I went to look for the love which was mine in a past life. His dwelling stood in the middle of a busy street. In the evening breeze his pet sat drowsing and the birds were quietly settled.
He set his lamp down by the door and stood before me.
He raised his eyes to my face and silently enquired, "How are you, my beloved?"
I tried to reply, but our utterance had been mislaid and obliterated.

I tried to recall, yet our names I could not bring to memory.
Grief shone in his eyes. He held out his hand to me. I took it and stood speechless.
Our lamp had wavered in the evening breeze and died.