Your divine sport

(2848)  Ashay asha diye

Expectation against hope allowing,
How much will You make me forget?
At those with hope You look briefly;
I am waiting without end.

In this monsoon season I'd imagined
You will grant embrace on a stream melodic.
But in rains continuous, You did not appear;
Bath of water must have vexed.

I've thought that on an autumn morning,
With the frost on sorrow's trees,
I'll find You near, I'll sing a song;
Times myriad I genuflect.

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