Tarry a while, O Death, I cannot die While yet my sweet life burgeons¹ with its spring； Fair is my youth, and rich the echoing boughs² Where dhadikulas sing.

    Tarry a while, O Death, I cannot die With all my blossoming hopes unharvested, My joys ungarnered, all my songs unsung, And all my tears unshed.

    Tarry a while, till I am satisfied Of love and grief, of earth and altering sky； Till all my human hungers are fulfilled, O Death, I cannot die！