I am not confused; it's You that I want

(2322)  Tomare pavar ashe maneri madhumase

In hope of getting You at springtime of just psyche,
An effusive bud acknowledges no obstruction.
Stooped beneath a load of nectar, exalted by love,
My boycott, one hears that not.

Having kept remote, a shaking You afford;
A burning sensation, staying at home becomes.
To string a wreath of thought,
Forget I do not.

I realize everything is Your diversion;
With me You are making sport.
Though I be alone without support,
Vacillate I do not.

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