Sunday morning call

Whileas in my chamber seated

I toy upon my fingertips with flowers

Which I have this morning picked

To keep me company all day long,

I hear, very softly

Resounding in the air

Through the leaves and branches

The sound of the bell high up in the belltower.

It says:

“The living I call

The dead I weep

Do not close your soul’s door

Let Me come in unto your heart...”

—Come in then, o Lord

unto my heart.—

J.E. Tatengkeng
tr. after Damais