Monday, September 21, 2020

Though it hurts

(1704)  Ei ashoka tarura tale

Neath the same ashoka tree,
At evenings of Chaitra, without work or busy,
On some pretext I was sitting.

At springtime, with its sweet and gentle breeze,
Hoping for nectar poured were the black bees coming.
Distressed leaves, wet with tears of grief,
Seared by pangs of separation, they were crying.

That ashoka tree has gotten withered;
Now its leaves and flowers have vanished.
This path the black bees have abandoned;
With tears of memory cries the tree lacking nectar.

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1 comment:

  1. There is a subtle and alluring sweetness in the pangs of separation. Tears of regret and tears of longing are somewhat different in nature.