I laid my body in a rattan swing

And waited the cold moist air,

That clings to the fog,

To drop, to bath my fainted heart,

In zephyr touch, though

Senile love in Eden that vanish long time ago.

As wild berries, root tubers, and water lilies at night seem asleep.

It is then the day when the roots of the tree,

Silently walk in the ground,

And the bud stretches to become leaves

While my love outstretched beneath the mango tree.