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(2330)  Harano dine vyathabhara gane

On olden days in poems full of agony,
The words that I've spoken inwardly...
Have You not listened to that torn guitar,
In view of the moment, inattentively?

You are the Huge, I am an atom;
I am sedentary, You are frolicsome.
On a path circling Thee, I'm a pollen-spore;
At any instant, didn't You see me?

Though I be puny, I am not of scant avail;
Inside throat, it's Your message that I bear.
Inside breast, with the thought of You I stay,
Lying abed, in a dream or unsleeping.

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