Part 18 (1/2)

[_The rear stage is darkened, and the light on the main stage dimmed to the heavy purple blackness of mourning._]

(_Enter the Band of Youths._)

Chandra has gone away again, leaving us behind.

It is difficult to keep him still.

We get our rest by sitting down, but he gets his by walking on.

He has gone across the river with the blind minstrel, in whose depth of blindness Chandra is seeking the invisible light.

That is why our Leader calls him the Diver.

Our life becomes utterly empty, when Chandra is away.

Do you feel as though something was in the air?

The sky seems to be looking into our face, like a friend bidding farewell.

This little stream of water is trickling through the _casuarina_ grove. It seems like the tears of midnight.

We have never gazed upon the earth before with such intentness.

When we run forward at full speed, our eyes keep gazing in front of us, and we see nothing on either side of us.

If things did not move on and vanish, we should see no beauty anywhere.

If youth had only the heat of movement, it would get parched and withered. But there is ever the hidden tear, which keeps it fresh.

The cry of the world is not only ”I have,” but also ”I give.” In the first dawning light of creation, ”I have” was wedded to ”I give.” If this bond of union were to snap, then everything would go to ruin.

I don't know where that blind Minstrel has landed us at last.

It seems as though these stars in the sky above us are the gazing of countless eyes we met in all forgotten ages. It seems as if, through the flowers, there came the whisper of those we have forgotten, saying Remember us.

Our hearts will break if we do not sing.

(_They sing._)

_Did you leave behind you your love, my heart, and miss peace through all your days?

And is the path you followed lost and forgotten, making your return hopeless?

I go roaming listening to brooks' babble, to the rustle of leaves.

And it seems to me that I shall find the way, that reaches the land of lost love beyond the evening stars._

What a strange tune is this, that comes out of the music of Spring.

It seems like the tune of yellow leaves.

Spring has stored up its tears in secret for us all this while.

It was afraid we should not understand it, because we were so youthful.