(67) Tari patha pane man chute jay
My attention flows ineluctably toward His pathway;
Oh my eyes remain fixed on His pathway.
On account of Him, my heart is overwhelmed;
Oh I remain abstracted on account of Him.
Today, my bed, it is a bed of thorns;
Before my eyes is the disgrace of defeat.
My attire, it is a lackluster raiment;
Oh where to stow my sorrow?
He loves me so much, and yet He does not come.
Oh how is He thoroughly both tender and severe?
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