Yama spoke, watching the world about him:
"They stand not still, nor do they blink—these spies of the gods, who wander abroad upon the earth.
Turn thyself aside, O wanton one; find thee another than me. With him, let thy body run loose, even as two wheels fly from a chariot."

But Yamī answered him boldly:
"Day and night would I serve thee without weariness.
Even the eye of the sun could I cause to stumble for a time.
Heaven and Earth are bound together by the same ties; so too are we twain.
Therefore could Yamī bear the unbrotherly act of Yama."

Yama replied, stern and unyielding:
"In days to come shall kin perform deeds unbefitting kin.
But as for now, take up thine arm for another's pillow, a true bull's pillow.
Seek thou another for husband, well-portioned one; seek not me."

Yamī pleaded with desperate longing:
"What shall 'brother' mean when there is no shelter left in the world?
What shall 'sister' mean when dissolution draweth nigh?
Driven by desire, I murmur this again and again: join thou thy body unto mine."

But Yama answered with grave restraint:
"Verily, I shall not mingle my body with thine.
Evil is he who lieth with his sister.
Find thou another with whom to share thy joys.
Thy brother seeketh not such union, O well-portioned one."

Yamī, stung with sorrow and wrath, cried out:
"Truly, thou art a fool, Yama—a hard fool indeed!
No heart nor mind have we found in thee.
Another woman shall clasp thee close, as a girth binds a yoked horse, as a vine entwines a tree."

Yet Yama stood firm and made reply:
"Another man shall clasp thee, Yamī, and thou shalt clasp another— even as the vine wreathes about the tree.

Seek his heart, or let him seek thine, and thus make for thyself a bond of gladness."