My Beloved Mystery

(1984)  Bale thako bhalabasi

You keep saying, "I give love";
But evidence gets not found in practice.
Why are thorns there in a grove of flowers,
And where go the petals that fall?

Splendor of the moon's bright beams,
A dark and broad cloud-bank conceals.
The visual illusion of a forest-doe,
Why does a hunter hotly pursue it?^[1]

At core of life's unfolding evolution,
Why does the shadow of death cavort?
Eye-consoling, mind-delighting,
A rainbow, where does it vanish?

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