Not fallacy

(2858)  Phaguner agun jvele diye gele kon vane

In which grove got lit the fire of spring,
A bower of flowers or garden of psyche?
This, love's bitty offering, I gifted to Thee,
Most sincerely, oh yes, wholeheartedly.

In my breast the honey had been concealed,
Like magnolia that had been fragrance-smeared.
The nectar forthcoming, upward gushing,
It goes on calling You through a vernal breeze.

I go on seeking You everywhere,
In grief and glee, in glory and ignominy.
Who knows it, that day when You'll appear,
Having packed both bloom and fruit with hope's dream.

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