Build me a house, you said, fill it with oil lamps and keep them burning.
    Let the flowers be fresh and fragrant, pile the sweetmeats high
on silver platters, ring the bells and burn the camphor. Weave me

silks and muslins, fashion me girdles and armbands, powder the vermillion,
    paste the sandal and gather the cassia, compose eulogies, lord
you said, tune the instruments, beat the drums, caparison the beasts

of burden, polish the brass. Send in the dancing girls, invite the priests,
    light the sacred fires, pour the ghee and let the singing begin, call me
you said, beautiful wandering, call me blue-black, call me handsome

lord of the mountains, call me almond, call me thief, call me heart,
    call me honey, call me lover. Call me. Call me lord.