(332) Phulera malati
This garland of flowers
Was strung for You alone.
You did not put it on;
Why have You pained me so?
The eastern sky was wrapped in crimson,
And the wind was smeared with love.
Entwining color and devotion,
Woven was my heart's affection.
Behold, my garland got drenched in tears;
The flower petals, they steadily dropped.
You did not come; You did not appear—
You did not assuage my yearning.
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Only all-consuming devotion commands His presence.
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