Maya

If the river be a mirage that I see
Then what need for me
Of a ford?

If the children buy and sell in make-believe,
Who should joy or grieve,
Gain or lose?

Are not maidens still in kinship just the same,
Though they wedded in a game,
Girl with girl?

Joy or sorrow that we meet with in our dreams
To us waking seems
Nothing real.

So, says Tuka, births and dying, — nought is true.
Bondage, freedom too,
Weary me.