Oh Krsna, at myrtle grove please arrive,
Intoxicating psyche's bumblebee.
A hushed-up bud drain until dry,
The heart's ambrosia two hands filling.
This myrtle grove, it is mine;
It lives on in hope Thine...
Every instant that is idle,
Ciphering the seconds owing to Thee.
I don't know whether You will come,
Making my effort blossom.
Sprinkled tears and love tender,
Will or won't they entice Thee?
Please appear in a groom's clothing,
Decked by blooms and song's resonance lingering...
A visage sweet and mind alert,
With smiling lips in depths of reverie.
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In my mental deeps, Shyam, please visit me.
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