Your jasmine body shrugs a signal to me. My soul flies against the constraining cage.
Now the luck-bird’s shadow is overhead. I shout, Go away. You are not part of this.
Oh really? Says the bird of good and bad circumstances. You refuse happiness? You anticipate no troubles?
These wittering worries and wishes
keep human beings apart from the friend.
I want the face itself. As I say that, the luck-bird goes wild for jasmine.
Now the fortune-teller and the enlightened teacher, the body and the soul, are as crazed as I am.