At a loss?

(3442) Nayane kena aso na vyatha bojho na

Before eyes why don't You come, don't You fathom pain?
What divine sport is Yours?
Still, the spring winds blow, a hawk-cuckoo sings
In ragas ever new.

Constantly I go on calling;
Hope I do not lose, even no response getting.
Privately, in my mental pleasure garden,
What is the offering I will give to You?

With light and shade is a game;
What is Your assemblage of shape?
I won't understand, I can't assimilate;
What song will I sing in this playroom? 

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