Tuesday, February 23, 2021

His magic matchstick

(1851)  Je agun mane jvele diye gele

The fire You kept lighting within psyche,
Putting out that fire, it became a problem.
On gaining even sandal's cool soothing,
Its burning sensation does not get forgotten.

The bloom does not bring any sweet beauty;
Mental bees have no taste for its honey.
At the night moonlit, I don't go on knitting
Rosy dreams of a place heavenly.

Yours is the magic matchstick;
Earth and heaven they are dancing to it.
Illusion's looking glass that You've built,
In it do the three worlds sparkle.

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