Maybe, my dear

(3134)  Mrganayana more balo na

Doe-eyed one, to Me won't you say
For whose sake night and day so much you weep,
Telling He will come, oh Who has departed,
Thenceforth has forgot; Who is He, lacking empathy?

Upon the sky fly your curling tresses;
Shiva^[1] of mind is inside, with clouds' rain-shower.
Nonetheless He did not look, fathomed not the pain.
He went on staying distant; how is He severe?

You are gazing listlessly at the remote heavens;
Your mind goes on floating with extended breaths.
Though He'll not come, will not understand Your pain,
His heart, won't it melt... that One ever a mystery?

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