Over the
balcony-rail women's clothes are hung in the sun, a bird whistles from a
covered cage, and a boy plays with his kite on the terrace.
A tenant has come to occupy a few rooms. He earns little and has many
children. The tired mother beats them and they roll on the floor and
shriek.
A maid-servant of forty drudges through the day, quarrels with her
mistress, threatens to, but never leaves.
Every day some small repairs are done. Paper is pasted in place of missing
panes; gaps in the railings are made good with split bamboo; an empty box
keeps the boltless gate shut; old stains vaguely show through new whitewash
on the walls.
The magnificence of wealth had found a fitting memorial in gaunt
desolation; but, lacking sufficient means, they try to hide this with
dubious devices, and its dignity is outraged.
They have overlooked the deserted room on the north side. And its forlorn
door still bangs in the wind, like Despair beating her breast.
23
In the depths of the forest the ascetic practised penance with fast-closed
eyes; he intended to deserve Paradise.
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