(561) Manira dyutite phulera hasite
With the laughter of flowers and luster of gems,
You had entered my delightful garden
In a month of Phalgun, long ago forgotten.
For many an age, everything forsaken,
Awaiting Your return, I've counted the days.
How many southern winds have blown and gone;
How many fragrant sandal trees have fallen.
How many evening stars have vanished;
How many days have passed unnoticed.
My mental sweetness has been lost;
Dried up is my stream of thought.
A lute is wailing in my mind:
Come back, Lord, due to Your own virtues and not mine.
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He came once upon a time, but now all I know is what I'm missing.
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