I would behold

(3242)  Kimshuka vane aji nirajane

Today at the palash bower privately,
Who are You that sounds a lyre?
Grant me sight, oh please give sight.
Radiant like a silk cloth on psyche,
Go on emanating elegance of style.

Never do You ask for aught;
Perhaps there is no cause.
From thought's antiquity, alone and secretly,
Oh what message You publicize!

At my mind's empty dwelling,
Will You capitulate, telling naught, unspeaking?
With the moonlight-bathed evening deceased,
Sing a song of boundless sky.

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