Saturday, November 19, 2022

At the point of suffocation

(2460)  Mor kabariir mala shukiyeche

The garland of my chignon has withered;
Throat's song has halted.
Weeping this evening,
Mind simply prays for Your kindness.

Just one time please reply: "Have no fear:
With you I have been, I will be perpetually."
I am lost, oh I am lost– this fear I receive;
Hope's light, it is getting stifled.

Notwithstanding, I'll not ever be held back;
On Your thought I get power, Master.
Now about to die out is that hope's lamp;
In it has come ghee and wick.

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