Speak up

(541)  Mukhar prate niirav kena

On a boisterous morn, why be still;
Won't You speak Your mind to me?
One who gave to You his everything,
Why keep aloof even from him?

On the blue sky of a moonlit night
I've diffused the nectar of my life;
And with the gloom of a new moon,
That pitch-black have I assumed.
Transcending blame and accolade,
In Your melody was the tune I made.

You are the smile upon my bloom...
On happy days, an enchanting flute,
On troubled nights, a gala of lights.
Everything of mine You circumscribe.

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