Mother, do you want heaps and heaps of gold?
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Imageine, mother, that you are to stay at home and I am to travel into strange lands.
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I shall cross to the pearl island shore. There in the early morning light pearls tremble on the meadow flowers, pearls drop on the grass, and pearls are scattered on the sand in spray by the wild sea-waves.
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Imagine that my boat is ready at the landing fully laden.
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There, by the banks of golden streams, fields are full of golden harvest.
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My brother shall have a pair of horses with wings to fly among the clouds.
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For you, mother, I must have the casket and jewel that cost seven kings their kingdoms.
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Now think well, mother, before you say what I shall bring for you when I come back.
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And in the shade of the forest path the golden champa flowers drop on the ground.
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For father I shall bring a magic pen that, without his knowing, will write of itself.
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I will gather them all for you in many hundred baskets.
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Mother, do you want pearls big as the raindrops of autumn?
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