Songs 6 - 10

6
Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it droop and drop into the dust.
I may not find a place in thy garland, but honour it with a touch of pain from thy hand and pluck it. I fear lest the day end before I am aware, and the time of offering go by.
Though its colour be not deep and its smell be faint, use this flower in thy service and pluck it while there is time.

Kutlua kining gamay nga bulak ug kuhaa, ayaw paglangan! Nahadlok ako nga basin kini malawos ug mahulog ngadto sa abog.

Basin dili kini makakita og luna diha sa imong garland, apan pasidunggi kini sa usa ka hikap sa kasakit gikan sa imong mga kamot ug kutlua kini. Nahadlok ako nga basin matapos ang adlaw sa wala ko pa kini mamatnguni, u gang oras sa paghalad milabay na.

Basin tuod kung ang iyang kolor dili lawom ug ang iyang kahumot dili tataw, gamita kining bulak diha sa imong serbisyo ug kutlua kini samtang may panahon pa.

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7
My song has put off her adornments. She has no pride of dress and decoration. Ornaments would mar our union; they would come between thee and me; their jingling would drown thy whispers.
My poet's vanity dies in shame before thy sight. O master poet, I have sat down at thy feet. Only let me make my life simple and straight, like a flute of reed for thee to fill with music.

Ang akong awit mihubo sa iyang mga dayan-dayan. Wala siya’y garbo sa sinina ug dekorasyon. Ang mga ornamento makababag sa among panaghiusa; mahimo silang salimbong kanimo ug kanako; ang ilang kasikas makalunod sa imong mga hunghong.

Ang kagarboso sa usa ka mambabalak mamatay sa kaulaw diha sa imong panan-aw. O agalong mambabalak, milingkod ako sa imong tiilan. Tuguti lamang ako mahimong simple ug ligdong ang akong kinabuhi, sama sa plawta nga mugna sa sagbot nga imong gipuno sa musika.

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8
The child who is decked with prince's robes and who has jewelled chains round his neck loses all pleasure in his play; his dress hampers him at every step.
In fear that it may be frayed, or stained with dust he keeps himself from the world, and is afraid even to move.
Mother, it is no gain, thy bondage of finery, if it keep one shut off from the healthful dust of the earth, if it rob one of the right of entrance to the great fair of common human life.
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9
O Fool, try to carry thyself upon thy own shoulders! O beggar, to come beg at thy own door!
Leave all thy burdens on his hands who can bear all, and never look behind in regret.
Thy desire at once puts out the light from the lamp it touches with its breath. It is unholy---take not thy gifts through its unclean hands. Accept only what is offered by sacred love.
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10
Here is thy footstool and there rest thy feet where live the poorest, and lowliest, and lost.
When I try to bow to thee, my obeisance cannot reach down to the depth where thy feet rest among the poorest, and lowliest, and lost.
Pride can never approach to where thou walkest in the clothes of the humble among the poorest, and lowliest, and lost.
My heart can never find its way to where thou keepest company with the companionless among the poorest, the lowliest, and the lost.