At my pleasure grove's gazebo

(3364) Vasante dole mane dola dile

At springtime on a swing, psyche You swung;
On the sky beauty of hue, it goes a-floating.
With mind tranquil for unknown reason,
It's as if a song, unawares, someone makes me hear.

Upon mind reflected is the world of colors;
From outside furtively racing in it comes.
The external came inside, outdoors the inside went;
Plunked between these two, vanity goes missing.

By magic of myrtle in a pleasure grove at month of spring,
Mohan^[1] got embodied through my tiny wreath.
Proximate went remote, distant came into zenana;
The One Who's not near or far, He gives notice smiling.

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