Who says You are wholesome, Darling?
Many a lifetime, much sorrow and exertion,
It passed by, going on calling.
I have called to You beneath the sunray-garland,[1]
At both summer and monsoon, from a body radiant.
In the month of Bhadro I have called on autumn nights;
By white clouds ignited are light-beams.
I have called under pre-winter's frosty wind
And below the stroke of wintry snow unbearable.
At spring You came up to the outskirts of life,
Ridding the accumulated ebony.
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You put me through such misery only to finally bring relief.
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