Vijaya

My mother's name.

ANASHUYA [sings, coming out of the temple]

A sad, sad thought went by me slowly: Sigh, O you little stars! O, sigh and shake your blue apparel! The sad, sad thought has gone from me now wholly: Sing, O you little stars! O, sing and raise your rapturous carol To mighty Brahma, he who made you many as the sands, And laid you on the gates of evening with his quiet hands.

[Sits down on the steps of the temple.]

Vijaya, I have brought my evening rice; The sun has laid his chin on the gray wood, Weary, with all his poppies gathered round him.