The look of love

(3439) Sonalii bhore kusumanikare

At golden morn, o'er multitude of blossoms,
Who are You Who went on brushing color?
Inwardly I think with You I'm getting familiar;
Hence anon there is recognition.

It's as if well-conversant with the brush's tracing;
It's as if well-acquainted with the style of writing.
Mind looks to obtain, no taboo does it heed;
And You dispensed affectionate cognition.

With atom and molecule such sport is there:
An illustrated game, a movement painted motley.
You never slight or disrespect anybody;
Onto lap You drag everyone. 

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