The eyes of dawn are still tired, and there is dew in the air.
The lazy breath of wet grass hangs in the mist on the ground.
Under the banyan tree, you milk with your soft hands like cream.
I stood still.
I didn't bump into you.
The sky woke up with the gong in the temple.
The dust in the street fluttered under the driven cow's hoof.
Put your arm around your waist and hold the ringing water bottle.
The woman came from the river.
The bracelet jingled and the foam overflowed the edge of the jar.
The morning light is fading, and I step on you.