Prabhat Samgiit

(3418) Jyotsna rate manaviithite

On a moonlit night at an avenue of psyche,
I keep singing into every ear.
This My song is not a load of pain;
It is filled with key-note and melody.

This song of Mine, it is for thee;
It gets not lost in darkness gloomy.
Lives it in mind's cloistered dwelling,
Neath a motley floral canopy.

This song of Mine is exuded, dropping
Upon sands of a golden beach.
All distinction own and other, ignoring,
It goes floating far upstream. 

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