Praying for a reed pipe

(2447)  Ei sandhyaraktarage

On this same evening-blood-red color,
You had come, come with affection,
Making wreath of night-jasmine swing upon clavicle
With a sweetly smiling pollen.

Sailing had gone rafts of clouds white,
And in bower of Kans grass, an argent smile;
But sounding had arrived Your bamboo pipe
With raga of jubilation.

Will those days not come once more–
Evenings ringed by winds of autumn,
But the gloom of all their torment cleft
By the Vanguard of Existence?

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