Lord, it's getting tiresome

(3241)  Ami tomay ceyechi, ele na dekha dile na

For You I have longed;
You did not arrive, no sight did You provide
What crime have I done?

About You day and night I think,
Neath evening hues, on colorful mornings.
On eyelids hope is replete;
Traced there, I have stored.

On bank of the Jamuna in psyche,
At every watch^[1] I roam searching.
Sorrow-stricken, tearfully,
Back again why have I come?

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