There is much of life passed on the balcony in a country where the summer unrolls in six moon-lengths, and where the nights have to come with a double endowment of vastness and splendor to compensate for the tedious, sun-parched days. And in that country the women love to sit and talk together of summer nights, on balconies, in their vague, loose, white garments,--men are not balcony sitters,--with their sleeping children within easy hearing, the stars breaking the cool darkness, or the moon making a show of light--oh, such a discreet show of light!--through the vines. And the children inside, waking to go from one sleep into another, hear the low, soft mother-voices on the balcony, talking…
Or read it translated: 日本語 · 中文 · हिन्दी · Español · العربية · Français · বাংলা · Português · Русский · Bahasa Indonesia · اردو · Deutsch · Kiswahili · 한국어