Friday, December 12, 2014

Pangs of separation

(198)  Amar e manoviina chandahiina

The lyre of my mind is passive;
It resonates only when He plays it.
A tune in harmony with His tune
Must be played by the lyre.

Under all conditions, He just smiles.
When seated, He does not sit nearby.
To where does the radiance of my heart flow;
Oh, in which faraway land does it vanish?

He gazes toward my eyes but eludes their grasp;
Dancing, He departs with melodic magic.

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