Arrow loves the prey
Rope adores the bull's neck
Ocean loves the gasping fish ashore
Sky yearns for the shooting star
Root loves the drained well
Flower likes the empty pupa
The Destitute loves himself

The girl washing clothes in the river says:
My love is to this finger
To erase dirt from hidden creases
To wipe the soap-burned eyes
To point at those peeping eyes
Amidst the bushes
What else I have?

In the idle hours
Without going anywhere
Whatever has it not shown me
Took me to wherever not
This slender stout finger