Even amid thorns only

(3464) Nayane jadi na ele manane mor

As You came not before eyes, in thinking mine,
Please come to my lonesome retreat.
In life ever gazing toward arrival path,
With hope I am surviving.

In my tiny rose garden
Come no flowers, but are thorns;
Those thorns are giving prick.
Like ebb tide after flood,
I am restless, patience am I missing;
On this cruelty, always I am thinking.

Even at present a good time is there:
The air vernal on this night Phalgunii.^{[nb 2]}
You remain for an instant,
Neath this full moon with a moonlight very soothing. 

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