Saturday, June 20, 2020

Whatever may be

(1615)  Tumi asbe jani mor ghare

To my home I know that You will reach,
Though days have passed, constantly calling,
And the nights retire in tears.

Summer's gone, and gone the rains...
Hope has been ringed by despair.
But with the fall's jasmine-bouquets,
I've gone on calling in a reverent way.

Under prewinter's frosty breeze,
And on the winter-wind's shivering,
You did not reply, not even with a look-see;
But You arrived in tunes of spring.

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