The good fight

(557)  Dhara dite cao na jakhan

When You don't hanker to get caught,
Why then make this divine sport?
Those who are in love with Thee,
You fill their eyes with tears.

Those who may, at break of day,
Sing Your praise 'neath eastern sky...
And those who light lamps for Your sake
In evening's crimson twilight,
Why do You kick them away,
Keeping afar, drawing aside?

I carry on in hope of getting Thee,
Dejected, I've kept up the fight.
This hope of mine is not futile;
Even this gloom, pierced it will be.

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