Capitolo 26
As if a someone unknown smiled and it looked at him/it. . .
There was only still there light of the sun.
Until him he/she saw those young eyes, while quietly smiling,
And it held his/her breath to fix,
And you/he/she would have been able to swear his/her cheek you/he/she had turned--a small. . .
You/he/she had slightly turned street. . .
Light of the sun dozed on the floor. . . He sat and he/she wondered,
Neither I damage his/her room that day.
And that day, and for many days since then in then,
He sat alone, and thought
Any lady had ever lived so beautiful
How beaten Hiroshigi. . .
Or if she lived, any matter in that country,
From that that far river or hill or solitary sea,
He would look in every face until him it found her/it. . .
There was no anybody other equitable as her.
Its calm face is first he burned soft incense,
And it brought her/it every day
Branches of the fishing or almond or snow-white cherry,
And somehow, she seemed to say,
That silent lady, young and quietly smiling,
What she was happy there;
And sometimes, seeing this, he started to tremble,
And it desired to touch his/her hair,
To placed his/her palm along his/her hand, touches weakly
With delicate finger-points
The ghostly smile that is seemed to hover and to fade away
On his/her lips. . .
Until him he/she knew that he loved this calm lady;
It is night night a theme
It peered at to his/her dreams, for him it knew that Hiroshigis
It was many centuries dead,--
Also, and the lady was dead, and everybody that you/they knew her/it. .
Dead, and long it turned to dust. . .
The thin moon waxed and lowered, and he/she left him/it paler,
The leaves of fishing flew in a gust,
And he would certainly be dead; but there one day
A wise man, white with age,
Fixed the portrait, and says, 'This Hiroshigi
Known more than the archimage,--
Cunningly it drew the body, and he/she called the ghost,
You cultivate partly it entered there. . .
To death, digitò completely sometimes, the portrait. .
Face everybody that I say with care,
And her You love can come when you call her/it. . . '