(198) Amar e manoviina chandahiina
| The lyre of my mind is passive; It resonates only when He plays it. A tune in harmony with His tune Must be played by the lyre. Under all conditions, He just smiles. When seated, He does not sit nearby. To where does the radiance of my heart flow; Oh, in which faraway land does it vanish? He gazes toward my eyes but eludes their grasp; Dancing, He departs with melodic magic. |
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