I Made A Bitter Song When I Was A Boy, About A Girl With Hot Earth-Coloured Hair, Who Lived With Me And Left Me. I Made A Sour Song On Her Marriage-Day, That Ever His Kisses Would Be Ghosts Of Mine, And Ever The Measure Of His Halting Love Flow To My Music. It Was A Silly Song, Dear Wife With Cool Black Hair, And Yet When I Recall (At Night With You Asleep) That Once You Gave Yourself Before We Met, I Do Not Quite Well Know What Song To Make. From The Burmese (Nineteenth Century) (' By Asmapur).