Supposing I became a champa flower, just for fun, and grew on a branch high up that tree, and shook in the wind with laughter and danced upon the newly budded leaves, would 你 know me, mother?
You would call, "Baby, where are you?" and I should laugh to myself and keep quite quiet.
I should slyly open my petals and watch 你 at your work.
When after your bath, with wet hair spread on your shoulders, 你 walked through the shadow of the champa 树 to the little court where 你 say your prayers, 你 would notice the scent of the flower, but not know that it came from me.
When after the midday meal...
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