You skip on the grasses green,
Your flute conjures tunes serene,
With one glance, everything You steal:
Why then, amidst the trees Yourself conceal?
i could have been that feather:
Adorning the hair of the world's master!
i could have have been that flower so simplistic-
Dangling in a garland on Your shoulders majestic!
i could have been that block of gold
That was into thy ornament mould!
i could have been that flute so dear-
That seperation from Your lips doesn't bear!
i could have been Your humble sandals-
Forever cocooned in Your service mantle!
But oh! am but a poor girl,
Who has many a time erred-
But oh Lover! Unto You surrendered-
In these woods searching for You, bewildered!