(487) Tora bal go tora more bal
Please do tell, oh do tell me.
In winter, why does the lotus never blossom?
I weep so bitterly, oh my cruel Love;[1]
Tell me why to my home she won't come.
In harshest summer, why is rain not combined?
In song and dance I invite; eagerly I look, I bide...
Love, why does water keep afar; why does it lie?[2]
Why does the palash tree not bear fruit?[3]
He for Whom I take birth, He Whose work I do,
Why does He make my tears spew?
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Sometimes the answer is in the question.
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