There the millet is lush,
There the grain is sprouting.
I walk with slow, slow steps,
My heart is shaken within.
Those who know me
Would say my heart is grieved;
Those who know me not
Would ask what I seek here.
Gray and everlasting Heaven —
What man is this?

There the millet is lush,
There the grain comes to ear.
I walk with slow, slow steps,
My heart as if drunk within.
Those who know me
Would say my heart is grieved;
Those who know me not
Would ask what I seek here.
Gray and everlasting Heaven—
What man is this?

There the millet is lush,
There the grain forms its seed.
I walk with slow, slow steps,
My heart as if choked within.
Those who know me
Would say my heart is grieved;
Those who know me not
Would ask what I seek here.
Gray and everlasting Heaven —
What man is this?