My Love, my shelter

(1531)  Phuler vane saungopane

In secret at a flower's forest,
What did the blossom grip?
Honey-smeared and petal-hid,
In seed-vessel it was missed.

At bosom of the bloom there was nectar;
And also was the hue of hope for attainment.
In concert with the moon, upon nights moonlit,
A one-stringed lute was practiced.

And too there were clouds in north-east quarter;
In addition was an ominous roaring of thunder.
There was dread of storm and gusty winds,
But the flow of love was abundant.

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