It's not me but just my yearning

(3366) Ami ceye chinu

I had been gazing
At Your path, day and night.
Yourself, playing a pipe of reed,
You arrived with smiling face in garden mine.

My plait of hair from curly tresses,
Tied I not with string of jasmine.
No raginii did I practice;
I've just gone on calling ever inside mind.

With fragrance of faith firm, ardent and sweet,
Swung has my hope, a dangling earring.
Blossom it has effused, fondness-smeared,
Those ruddy feet in reverie to beautify. 

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